


Never Let Me Go

by orphan_account



Series: Never Let Me Go [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, because we all need more River Song, let's just ignore what happened in the Christmas special
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-06-07 08:03:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 51,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6795934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>River Song is trapped inside the Library database- but she doesn't know it. She's living her perfect fantasy: a domestic life with the Doctor, complete with kids and a job as a professor. But when she's called to help the Doctor at Trenzalore, she's faced with reality once more. What happens when she finds out that her perfect dream inside the Library isn't real, and that the Doctor has left her alone for so long?<br/>This isn't the first fanfiction I've ever written, but it is the first I have posted on AO3. I hope you enjoy it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small edit; I'm still trying to figure out the formatting here, so bear with me! :)  
> Also, a song to go along with this chapter: 23 by Shakira.

“Ella, honey, grab your coat. It’s cold outside.”  
  
“But I don’t want to, Mummy,” the little girl complained and stuck out her bottom lip in an adorable pout.  
  
“Charlotte, get Ella’s coat on.” River sighed, exasperated, and motioned for her oldest daughter to help Ella. She was busy packing lunch for all three of her children, who would be off to school soon (or so she hoped). It was Ella and Josh’s first year of school, and though they had been looking forward to it for a long time, the novelty had now worn off, much to River’s chagrin. These days it was all she could do to get the three of them out the door on time.  
  
“Mummy, I can’t find it,” whined Charlotte, who was the eldest of the three at nearly ten now.  
  
River huffed. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, Charlotte, it’s right here!”  
  
Meanwhile, Josh had found the peanut butter and was busy dipping his finger into the jar and licking the peanut butter off. River sighed to herself and called to him to _get his hands out of that jar right now or no dessert for you_. Then she told Ella to _stop whining about that coat this instant, it’s cold outside and yes, Josh and Charlotte have to wear them too_. Then she told Charlotte to _get your bags and make sure to shut off the bedroom light_.  
  
She glanced at the clock and noticed with dismay that it was already a quarter to nine. With a soft groan she ran her hands through her mess of curls (not yet brushed- what mother had time for that?) and realized they were going to be late yet again. And where on earth was her husband? Not on earth at all, she suspected. She felt a mild flash of annoyance, though she knew it wasn’t his fault. The Doctor was off visiting an old friend who’d been going through some rough times recently- an errand which _she_ had sent him on- but the fact was, he was never around when River needed him these days, now was he? He had a bloody time machine; he could pop off and visit their friend and be back in seconds. Yet he was perpetually late.  
  
River finished packing the lunches and packed them up in Josh and Ella’s bags, noting that Charlotte’s bag was, as of yet, nowhere to be seen. She called up the stairs to her eldest daughter, “Charlotte, it’s time to go! Bring your bag down.”  
  
“But, Mum, I can’t find my book!” River heard thumping sounds issuing from above and realized Charlotte was probably running around looking for her book. With an exaggerated eye roll, she spotted the volume on the kitchen table where Charlotte had been reading while eating breakfast.  
  
“It’s down here, sweetheart. Now come on, you’re going to be late for school!”  
  
More thumping sounds could be heard as Charlotte rushed down the stairs with her backpack in hand. River handed her the book and the lunch, both of which she promptly stuck in her bag.  
  
Several minutes later, River had successfully loaded all three children into the car. She started up the car and pulled out of the driveway, a feeling of relief washing over her when she glanced at the clock. Five to nine. Good. They were _almost_ on time. And best of all, they had everything they needed for the day.  
  
“Um, Mummy, Josh forgot his backpack.” Ella’s voice drifted up to the front, shattering River’s content.  
  
She groaned. This was going to be one _long_ day.  
  
***  
  
It couldn’t have been that long, but to River it felt like hours later that she finally got home. Exhausted, she hung up her keys and slumped against the wall, stifling a yawn. Finally she stretched and took off her shoes, going upstairs to take care of a few things.  
  
Several minutes later and with freshly brushed hair, River headed downstairs. Hearing knocking at the door, she frowned; she wasn’t expecting anyone today. She opened the door to reveal the Doctor on the doorstep, wearing a fez and smiling at her.  
  
“Hi, honey, I’m home.”  
  
“And what sort of time do you call this?” She wanted to be annoyed, she truly did, but she couldn’t quite manage to muster the exasperation required.  
  
The Doctor grinned and took her hand as he pushed past her and through the door, spinning her around and off her feet into a quick kiss before setting her upright once more.  
  
“How’re the kids?” It was always the first thing he asked when he got home from one of his trips. Though, River noted with satisfaction, the trips were getting fewer and further between these days; he had a family to take care of, after all. And though the occasional wanderlust did set in, he managed the domestics better than River would have thought possible, especially given that he had the attention span of a five year old.  
  
“They’ve missed you,” River told him, unable to suppress her smile. “Same as ever.”  
  
“I’ve missed them, too,” the Doctor grinned, his floppy hair spilling into his eyes. River reached up to sweep it out of the way, taking the opportunity to not-so-discreetly knock the fez to the floor.  
  
_“Rivah!”_ he protested, but she shook her head and smirked at him.  
  
“No fez, sweetie.” Her voice had that commanding tone that only she could muster, stern yet still laced with a playful undertone.  
  
“But it’s a _fez_! Fezzes are cool.”  
  
“And so are bowties, I suppose,” she replied, amused, reaching up to straighten his perpetually crooked bowtie. She rather liked the bowtie, it was true, though she’d never admit it.  
  
The Doctor smiled and took her hand in his own, tracing circular words of endearment onto her palm. His fingers brushed over her wedding ring and she couldn’t help but smile. They could finally do that now, wear wedding rings. She hummed contentedly and leaned her head onto his chest, listening to his double heartbeat. There were no more spoilers, just River and her Doctor forever.  
  
***  
  
“Daddy!” Ella’s voice rang out across the noisy playground as she ran towards her father. He picked her up and whirled her around before setting her back on the ground in front of him.  
  
“How was school, Ella?” he asked, and she grinned.  
  
“Okay. Joshie almost got sent to the headmaster’s office!”  
  
“What for?” River interjected. Could be that this was just one of Ella’s stories; then again, Josh did have a reputation for getting into trouble.  
“He called Annie a moron, and then Mrs. Johnson told him to stop ‘cept he wouldn’t. So she said she’d send him to the headmaster’s office but he stopped.”  
  
“Is this true, Joshua?” River asked the other twin, who was just arriving at the scene.  
  
“’Course not, Mummy.”  
  
“Is too true!”  
  
“Is not!”  
  
“Is too!”  
  
“Is n-”  
  
River cleared her throat loudly and the twins looked up at her.  
  
“Do I need to go visit Mrs. Johnson?”  
  
“No, Mummy,” said Josh meekly.  
  
Meanwhile, Charlotte had made her way over to them. She’d been walking with a couple of her friends but had broken away when she’d realized her father was home.  
  
“Dad!” she ran up and threw her arms around him. “I’m so happy you’re home.”  
  
“Me too.” The Doctor smiled. “I missed you all very much.”  
  
“I want a hug, too, Daddy,” Ella pouted, and the Doctor scooped her up and twirled her around in a circle, causing the little girl to squeal and giggle.  
  
“Do it again, do it again!” she chanted.  
  
“Josh’s turn first,” River told her daughter, who stuck out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout.  
  
Watching the Doctor play with her children- _their_ children- River couldn’t help but smile. He was so good with them; he loved them very much, and it was clear that they absolutely adored their father. It wasn’t surprising they got on so well, really; the Doctor was still a child at heart. He possessed a playful quality and an enthusiasm that surpassed even that of most children, and she loved him for it.  
  
***  
  
Every night, she dreamed. Sometimes she dreamed of her past life, of life before she settled down to have a family with the man she loved. Sometimes they were nightmares about a Library, about shadows that moved and a Doctor who didn’t recognize her. She didn’t know why she dreamed of these things, where her imagination dreamt them up, but she did all the same.  
  
It was from one such dream that she awoke that night, gasping, head pounding and skin burning all over. They always ended the same way, those nightmares- the feeling of her body being engulfed in flames, a burning crown of metal cutting into her forehead. And that sense of sorrow, of love lost and the realization that this was the end for her.  
  
She shook and trembled all over, and he held her like he always did. Her husband. Her Doctor. She didn’t know what she’d do without him here beside her, didn’t know what she’d do if he ever left. When they’d first come here, so long ago, she’d been fearful that she’d hear the sound of the TARDIS one morning and wake up to find him gone. But her worst fears weren’t to be realized. He’d stayed then, he was here now, and all the times he’d left in the past were forgiven.  
  
_Always and completely forgiven. You are always and completely forgiven._  
  
The words drifted through her mind, and in her half-conscious state they seemed almost as if from another life. As if this wasn’t real, this life, as if her half-forgotten memories were more of a reality than her current life. She wondered how even when she was awake she sometimes thought she was dreaming. Something was strange about this place. She’d noticed it shortly after they’d come to live here. Things seemed less solid, less tangible than they used to be. Her memories of living here were muted, imbued with an almost dreamlike quality. Sometimes it felt like time stretched on for hours and hours, while other times days passed in what felt like the blink of an eye. Some days she couldn’t even remember what she’d done in the last hour, let alone recall how she came to live there on Luna with the Doctor.  
  
There were people here, too; her neighbors were always in the Library dream, and it was unnerving. They were all there: Mister Lux, the two Daves, Anita. And Miss Evangelista. There was something… _off_ in the way she looked at River, as if she could see right through her, as if she _knew_ that something wasn’t right. Every time she met Evangelista’s eyes, the tattered spacesuit and blankly staring skull of her dreams always came to mind.  
  
River tried to ignore it, but the feeling that something was wrong haunted her day and night. She told no one, not even the Doctor, about her dreams.  
  
Dreams were not real, and she did not want to shatter a reality as near perfection as was possible with fears that were completely unfounded.


	2. Chapter 2

River woke in the morning to the strangest feeling that she’d find a letter waiting in the letterbox. She’d thought she’d dreamed it—a veiled woman in black outside her window in the middle of the night, the rattle of the letterbox. She didn’t know what made her check the box as soon as she awoke, but something told her the letter would be there.  
  
And it was.  
  
_Dear River,_  
  
_The world is wrong. Meet me at your usual playpark, two o’clock._  
  
It wasn’t signed.  
  
River had no idea what drew her to it; it was almost certainly a foolish idea to obey the note. But some part of her, the part of her that wondered, wanted to go. Wanted to know why the world was wrong.  
  
Because it most certainly _was_ wrong.  
  
***  
  
“What’s wrong?” the Doctor asked later that day when he caught her at the kitchen window, staring into space.  
  
She started, shook her head to clear it. “Nothing. I’m fine. It’s just…”  
  
“Just what?”  
  
“Nothing. I’m tired, that’s all. It’s been a long few days.” Or it seemed to be. Now that she tried to remember the past few days, she found she couldn’t.  
  
***  
  
It was Saturday, and Charlotte had gone over to a friend’s house. The twins begged her to take them to the park as she usually did on Saturdays, and it was the only excuse she needed. She bundled them up in weather-appropriate clothing, and they walked to the park.  
  
She didn’t know how she knew, but River knew the woman would be waiting for her on the bench before they even reached the playground. She sent the twins off to play, reminding them not to fight, before she took a seat on the bench next to the veiled woman. The stranger didn’t make a move to speak, so River sat, acting unconcerned and smiling at her children’s antics.  
  
“The world is wrong.” The woman in black spoke at last, so suddenly River nearly started.  
  
“Yes, so I’ve heard,” she replied once she had recovered herself. “I got your note last night.”  
  
“No, you didn’t.”  
  
“I’m sorry?”  
  
“You didn't get my note last night. You got it a few minutes ago. Having decided to come, you suddenly found yourself arriving. That is how time progresses here, in the manner of a dream,” the woman said, and River found herself struck by how familiar the voice was. But the woman’s words didn’t strike her as strange. There was something wrong here; she’d known that, deep down, for a long time.  
  
“You've suspected that before, haven't you, River Song?” the woman asked, as if she’d been able to read River’s thoughts.  
  
She didn’t answer, choosing to ask a question of her own instead. “How do you know me?”  
  
“We met before, in the Library.” She didn’t elaborate, but for some reason River knew it was a proper noun. The Library, capital L. She frowned.  
  
“I _know_ you,” she muttered.  
  
“Yes, you do.”  
  
And, listening closer, she did. River recoiled from her in an instant, beginning to rise. But the woman—Evangelista—stopped her with her next words.  
  
“I suggested we meet here because a playground is the easiest place to see it. To see the lie.”  
  
“The lie.” The way she phrased it, it wasn’t a question.  
  
“Oh, yes. You know, don’t you?” She couldn’t see Evangelista’s face, but River imagined a smirk under the veil.  
  
River didn’t reply.  
  
“Look at the children,” Evangelista told her, and much as she wanted to resist, to let this perfect reality persist, she looked, _really_ looked, for the first time.  
  
And she knew. In a way, she’d always known this wasn’t real. It was too good to be true. She had everything she’d ever wanted—a forever with the man she loved.  
  
But she didn’t want to let go.  
  
“They’re not real.” Evangelista’s voice whispered at the back of her mind, but she wasn’t really listening.  
  
Her head spun as she watched the children— _her_ children—at play. Watched the identical expressions on identical faces, the bright laugh of Ella issuing from every girl’s throat, Josh’s shouts echoing in the voice of every boy.  
  
“In a way, we’re all dead here.”  
  
She wanted to turn on Evangelista, to shake her until she admitted she’d been lying this whole time. But she couldn’t. River stood, frozen but not disbelieving. Because she knew it was true, what Evangelista said.  
  
“We are the dead of the Library.”  
  
She could almost see the world falling to pieces in front of her eyes.  
  
***  
  
_We’re all dead here._  
  
She couldn’t sleep. Evangelista’s words echoed around in her head, and she tossed and turned, thinking feverishly.  
  
_We are the dead of the Library._  
  
What did that make her? Was she dead? It seemed impossible. She was alive. She pinched herself, dug fingernails deep into her own flesh until tears sprung to her eyes and warm blood made its way out of the crescent-shaped wounds. She could feel. She could think and see and love. She had to be alive.  
  
Didn’t she?  
  
And her children. Who were they? _What_ were they? Just figments of her imagination? Data ghosts? River didn’t know what to think, or who to trust. And no matter how the Doctor pleaded with her to tell him what was wrong, she remained stony and distant. She couldn’t trust anything about this world anymore. Not even him.  
  
If it was even him. She didn’t know what was real anymore, and she couldn’t very well ask him. The only one who knew was Evangelista, and River had no interest in seeing her again. She was crazy, River tried to convince herself. Miss Evangelista didn’t know what she was talking about.  
  
So River resolved to go on with life as usual. Nothing had changed. Nothing, she told herself firmly.  
  
She didn’t sleep a wink that night.  
  
***  
  
She was putting the twins to bed after school. She’d told them a bedtime story, they’d had warm milk and watched cartoons. Or had they? She couldn’t remember anymore.  
  
“Mummy?” Ella asked suddenly, and River started.  
  
“What is it, sweetheart?”  
  
“Joshua and me, we’re not real, are we?”  
  
River’s hearts nearly ceased their beating.  
  
“Of course you’re real,” she told them, just as much for her own reassurance as theirs. Her voice betrayed a hint of panic. “You’re as real as anything, honey. What makes you say that?”  
  
“But, Mummy.” It was Josh who spoke this time. “Sometimes, when you’re not here, it’s like we’re not here.”  
  
“Even when you close your eyes, we just stop.”  
  
She tried to hold back the tears. She wasn’t sure why she was crying, from sadness or disbelief.  
  
“You’re real,” she heard herself say even as she clutched at empty sheets, as she was left alone in the room. Alarm lights blared red around her as she repeated it over and over.  
  
“This is real. I’m alive. This is real. This is real.”  
  
But Josh and Ella were gone, and she screamed the Doctor’s name with the desperation of a dying animal.  
  
No one came. She collapsed onto the bed where only moments before Ella had been, and sobbed.  
  
***  
  
Charlotte appeared like some sort of angel beside her, her soft touch on River’s arm startling her out of her frozen state.  
  
“How are you here?” she asked her eldest daughter, but the girl only blinked.  
  
“Charlotte?”  
  
“Yes, Mum, I’m here.”  
  
“But how? I… I thought…”  
  
“You’ve been uploaded to CAL,” Evangelista’s voice interjected, and then the woman herself appeared as if she’d materialized.  
  
“CAL?”  
  
“CAL,” Evangelista confirmed. “It's hard to see everything in the data core, even for me, but there is a word. Just one word. CAL.”  
  
“Meaning?” River snapped.  
  
“Charlotte Abigail Lux. Your ‘daughter.’”  
  
River looked to Charlotte, who nodded in confirmation. “You knew?”  
  
But Evangelista answered for the girl. “No. She forgot.”  
  
“Forgot what?”  
  
“Everything,” Evangelista said cryptically. “You forgot. And then, you remembered.”  
  
And she did.


	3. Chapter 3

She remembered the Library. She remembered the Vashta Nerada and she remembered running. She remembered Mr. Lux and she remembered CAL. She remembered the way the Doctor looked at her when he first laid eyes on her.

She remembered how he looked at her when she died.

The last thing she knew was the burning, the metal of the wires burning her head as she gave her own life to save the one she loved.

And then there was nothing. Nothing until she woke up in the database without any memories of how she’d gotten there. Nothing else before the dream.

How long had she been there? How long had it been since she’d really lived, since she’d really breathed? How long since she’d really seen the man she loved? She didn’t know. It could have been a minute or a thousand years. She didn’t care. Any amount of time was too long.

“How?” she gasped. “How?”

“You forgot,” Evangelista said simply.

“And then I remembered.”

“Yes.”

“How long has it been?”

“Since what?”

“Since…” She could barely bring herself to say it. “Since I died.”

It was Charlotte who answered this time. “The life form known as River Song was uploaded approximately 1305 years ago.”

A millennium. She’d been in a database for over a millennium, and she’d likely be there for many years to come.

And he hadn’t visited her, not once. He’d left her there like one of the books in the library, saved her to a database. And for what? He had a time machine; he could visit her whenever he liked. Yet he had left her alone, without him, for a thousand years. What was the point of saving her if he never spoke to her again? She felt sure that, if he’d really loved her, he would have come back.

She’d thought, after the time they’d spent on Darillium together, that he loved her. Maybe not as much as she loved him, but she’d thought he’d felt some measure of affection for her, however small. Now, though, River doubted she meant anything to him. He’d left her behind, but he hadn’t let her be free. She was dead, yes, but not completely. Her body may have been dead, but her mind was still alive. And he’d left her in a cruel half-life, a twisted reality that would forever torture her.

She swallowed, throat thick with tears she refused to let fall. “How did I get here?”

“Your data ghost was saved on a device known as a sonic screwdriver.”

That was why he’d given it to her. The only gift he’d ever given her, and it was the creator of her own eternal hell. Because that’s what this was to her: hell, in one form or another. Just knowing that he was out there in the world, that he could see her anytime and yet chose to stay away, cut her to the bone. She’d lived with him. She’d died for him. She’d loved him, and in return he’d sent her to her death with a screwdriver and a kiss, knowing that he was leaving her to this fate.

River nodded in acknowledgement; it was all she could do. It was a lot to take in, and she needed some time to herself to sort it out.

“I…” she could barely speak, she was so choked up. But she pushed on. “I think I need to be alone, if that’s all right.”

Evangelista nodded understandingly. “It’s a lot to get used to. I understand.”

She didn’t, River thought bitterly. Miss Evangelista was dead, too, but she hadn’t been abandoned by the one person she had trusted never to leave her.

“You’ll know where to find me when you need me again,” Evangelista told her as she turned and left the room, walked down the hallway to the bedroom she’d once shared with her husband. Everything was as it was before; the red alarms had quieted and the appearance of the room hadn’t changed. Everything was just where she’d left it, the sheets still rumpled from the previous night and two books resting on the bedside table. She picked one up, the one her husband had been reading.

Melody Malone. Her book. She ran her fingers over it, but the cold binding held no answers. He was gone. Only the merest traces of him were left to remind her that he’d always been gone. That he’d never really been there in the first place.

She blinked, and the book disappeared as if it had never been there.

Because it hadn’t, she knew now. None of this was real.

Stifling a sob, she went to the wardrobe and, not really sure why, she picked out a gold dress to put on. But she didn’t really need to dress herself, did she? This was a dream. She could do what she liked. She closed her eyes and pictured herself in the outfit, and it was done.

How many times had she dreamed that she could merely wish and it would be so?

It wasn’t as amazing as she’d thought it would be, because it wasn’t real. It was downright depressing, actually, to be able to have everything she ever wanted. Because she knew that it wasn’t really everything she wanted. It was never real in the first place and it never would be. Now that the dream was shattered she could never get it back. She thought maybe it was better, not knowing. Even the illusion of happiness was better than this.

She found now that she couldn’t cry. She wanted to break down, to let go of all the emotions she’d held inside her entire life. But now that she was alone, now that her hearts felt like they’d been ripped out of her chest, she simply felt hollow.

Her eyes strayed again to the night stand, where her book had rested. But the book that now lay upon the table was one she didn’t recognize. It had a blank front, and no title. Curious, she crossed the room and picked it up, flipped to the first page, and a piece of paper fluttered to the floor. She knelt and picked it up.

_Professor Song,_

_The Doctor entrusted me with your contact details in the event of an emergency, and I fear one has now arisen. Jenny, Strax, and I request your presence immediately. The fabric of this paper will release a soporific which will induce a trance state, enabling direct communication across the years. Speak soon._

_Madame Vastra_

Her first thought was, of course she would go. The Doctor was in danger.

Her second thought was, why should she go? He’d left her there, alone, without so much as a second glance.

Her first thought quickly overrode her second one, and she held the paper to her nose and took a deep breath.

***

“Madame Vastra,” River said as she appeared in a rather dramatic puff of smoke. She was seated around a five-sided table. On the other sides of the table sat three people she recognized, and one she didn’t.

“Professor,” Vastra greeted her, and she smiled. “Help yourself to some tea.”

“Why, thank you,” she replied. Oh, yes, it was good to see Vastra. Such Victorian values, that one, with the tea and all. River liked a good cup of tea, it was true, but right now she needed something a bit stronger. So she did much the same thing as she’d done back in her bedroom at CAL. She imagined a bottle of champagne and a nice crystal flute, and they appeared.

It was easy. She wished it were as easy to fix her life.

“How did you do that?” Jenny looked astonished.

She put up the façade, hid the damage, and smirked. “Disgracefully.”

River took a sip of champagne and cast a curious glance at the brunette stranger, which, thankfully, Vastra caught.

“Ah. Perhaps you two haven’t met. This is the Doctor’s companion.” River nearly gave a start at that, tried to breathe in and assure herself that everything was going to be okay. What did it matter, anyway? She was dead, she reminded herself. He had the right to travel with anyone he liked. He had the right to move on. She composed herself.

“That is, his current travelling assistant,” Vastra clarified.

“Assistant?” The girl seemed to laugh at the word, and River couldn’t help but wonder. Was she more than his assistant? Did he _love_ her?

She tried to keep calm as Strax said something which she didn’t catch. No need to jump to conclusions. Even if he did love the girl, it was no business of hers. She was dead, after all.

“Clara Oswald,” Vastra told her, and she returned the introduction.

“Professor River Song,” she said with as much warmth as she could muster. And though she tried not to wonder too much, she couldn’t help but ask. “The Doctor might have mentioned me?”

“Oh, yeah.” The girl’s- Clara’s- eyes widened as she seemed to recall where she’d heard the name before. “Oh, yeah,” she said again. “Of course he has. Professor Song. Sorry, it’s just I never realized you were a woman.”

River could feel her smile begin to fade, and she knew she wasn’t going to be able to hide the damage much longer.

“Well, neither did I,” Strax said, and River could have kissed him for the well-timed comment. It spared her from having to explain further, for which she was very grateful.

Still, though, it hurt that he’d never told her. Had he let go, moved on with his life and left even her memory behind? She hadn’t expected him to wait, or even to come back, really—as she had once told her mother, the Doctor didn’t like endings. But this was pain like she’d never known before. Not even looking into those young eyes, eyes that didn’t recognize her, was worse than this.

“Perhaps we should get down to the business at hand,” Vastra said, and River snapped back to the present.

“That might be good, dear, yes,” Jenny told her.

“Clarence DeMarco,” Vastra continued. “Murderer, under sentence of death. He offered us this in exchange for his life.”

“Space time coordinates,” River observed, trying to keep her mind on the problem at hand, but her thoughts kept straying to the Doctor.

“This, Mister DeMarco claims, is the location of the Doctor’s greatest secret.”

“Which is?” Clara asked.

“We don’t know. It’s a secret,” Jenny explained.

“The Doctor does not discuss his secrets with anyone, my dear,” Vastra told the girl. “If you're still entertaining the idea that you are an exception to this rule, ask yourself one question. What is his name?”

River was the only one who knew, other than the Doctor himself. She felt a small hint of satisfaction, even of smugness at the realization that he hadn’t told Clara. It was perhaps the urge to one-up Clara that prompted her to say, “Well, I know it.”

“What, you know his name?” Clara asked, and River had to admit that it felt good to see the skeptical look on the brunette’s face, knowing that she was about to prove it wrong. “He told you?”

“I made him,” she said with a slight smirk.

“How?”

“It took a while.” River kept it vague, just to annoy her. It was a memory too dear to her hearts to share with anyone, least of all this girl who had taken her place by the Doctor’s side.

“So you’re a friend of his, then?” Clara guessed.

“A little more than a friend, a long time ago,” she said, and she was surprised at the ease with which she lied. ‘A little more than a friend’ really didn’t cover it, but how was one to explain to her husband’s possible girlfriend—definite friend, if not more—that she was his dead wife that he had saved to a database and refused to talk about?

“He’s never contacted you?” Vastra asked, and River could hear the sympathy in her voice. She, at least, knew what River hadn’t said aloud.

“He doesn’t like endings.” She said it matter-of-factly, hiding the sorrow. That was the only explanation she gave before getting back to the task at hand. She wouldn’t let herself dwell on things she couldn’t change. “So what else did this DeMarco tell you? He didn't just buy his life with some coordinates. How did he prove their value?”

“One word, only.”

“What word?”

“A word I’ve heard in connection to the Doctor before,” Vastra said. “Trenzalore.”


	4. Chapter 4

River took a deep breath, tried hard not to betray her panic. Trenzalore was the site of the Doctor’s grave, the place he died according to some legends. He couldn’t go there. He couldn’t go to Trenzalore. He couldn’t die at Trenzalore, and he most certainly couldn’t visit his own grave. It would be a paradox.

But she hid the damage again, took a breath and asked, “How exactly did he describe what he was giving you?”

Vastra showed her a hologram of DeMarco.

“The Doctor has a secret, you know,” the hologram said. “He has one he will take to the grave. And it is discovered.”

River shook her head. “You misunderstood.”

It wasn’t his secret that would be discovered on Trenzalore, though she understood how the wording could be interpreted that way. It was his _grave_.

“Ma'am, I'm sorry,” Jenny interjected. “I just realized I forgot to lock the doors.”

“It doesn't matter, Jenny,” Vastra told her, eager to get on with it. “What misunderstanding? Tell me.”

“No, ma'am, please,” Jenny begged, and from the tone of her voice River could tell it was important. “I should've locked up before we went into the trance.”

“Jenny, it doesn't matter!”

“Someone's broken in. Someone's with us. I can hear them.” The words sent a chill down River’s spine. She was safe, and so was Clara, presumably, seeing as the girl was from a different time. But despite their safety in the dream, the Paternoster Gang ran a real risk of being injured—even killed—in the real world.

The next few moments passed in a blur, almost surreal like her time in CAL.

“Jenny, are you all right?”

“Sorry, ma'am. So sorry.” Her voice was getting fainter, weaker as she began to fade. “So sorry. So sorry. I think I've been murdered.”

“Jenny!” Vastra’s voice was soft but urgent.

“What's happened to her?” Clara asked, but no one paid attention.

“Jenny, can you hear me?”

“Speak to us, boy!” Strax yelled.

“Jenny!” Vastra called again, and the anguish in her voice pierced River to the core.

River stated the obvious. “You're under attack. You must wake up now. Just wake up. Do it!”

She slapped Vastra, who disappeared as Jenny had done.

“You, too, Strax! Wake up now!” She threw her champagne into his face, causing him to splutter and look indignant for a moment before he, too, vanished.

And then, they were there. Men with white formless faces and no features but mouths, dressed in suits and hissing in her ear. The Whisper Men. “Tell the Doctor. Tell the Doctor. Tell the Doctor.”

“Tell him what?” Clara demanded, and a face appeared.

“His friends are lost forever more, unless he goes to Trenzalore.”

“No, you can’t say that.” River’s voice was quiet but her desperation was all too clear. She’d lost him once already, and she was determined not to lose him again. “He can't go there. You know he can't.”

But they weren’t listening. Her words didn’t matter.

“The Doctor can never go to Trenzalore.”

And then Clara faded, and she was left alone.

***

She kept the psychic link open and hovered on the edge of Clara’s reality, close enough to see and hear but not close enough to be noticed by the Doctor and his companion. She watched as they bantered back and forth, watched as they went down the stairs and Clara made tea.

The conversation turned to her, as she knew it would one way or another.

“So who was she,” Clara began, “the lady with the funny name and the space hair?”

A pretty accurate description, she supposed, though funny name was a bit over the top if you asked her. Space hair. She liked that. It was a perfect description, and she had a feeling that the Doctor wouldn’t miss out on the chance to call it that were they ever to see one another again. But she shook the thought from her mind. It was no use to even dream of things that would never happen.

River was so lost in her reverie that she nearly missed the Doctor’s reply.

“An old… _friend_ of mine.” She could tell he chose his words carefully, and that was what hurt the most.

_Is that all I ever was to you?_

She wanted to step out and challenge him, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good. He couldn’t see or hear her; only Clara could, because they were still linked by the psychic signal.

“What, like an ex?” Clara asked, and she wondered what he would say. She could tell that the girl was gauging him; she’d probably had her eye on him for a while, from the way she looked at him. River had seen that look on many a girl’s face, and before now she’d always been smug, secure in her relationship with him. Any girl could look at him like that, but she was the only one he’d married. The only one he’d loved. Before the Library, before CAL, before she’d died, she’d been able to smirk and pull his lips down to hers, claim him as her own. She’d been on the receiving end of many poisonous glares from jealous girls, but she’d never minded. She knew he’d never leave her.

But now he had.

“Yes, an ex,” he said, and then hurried on. But she wasn’t listening anymore.

An ex? Was that all she was? She was the woman who’d married him, who’d loved him, who’d given first her regenerations and then her life to save him. She’d thought, in the end, that he’d loved her back.

She was beginning to think she’d been wrong.

***

The TARDIS fell from the sky, and she braced herself for the impact. She’d hung around the edges of the console room, just out of sight of the Doctor and Clara, half-listening to their conversation. The TARDIS gave its usual contented hum at her presence, but if the Doctor noticed he didn’t say.

She followed closely as they stepped out of the time machine and onto the surface of Trenzalore. Her stomach churned with anxiety, and she knew that she’d have to speak to Clara eventually. She’d taken an immediate dislike to the young woman, but right now she was the best chance River had of saving the Doctor, and that was all that mattered.

She listened to them talk for a while, waited until she thought the time was right to reveal herself.

“Clara,” she said. “Don’t speak, don’t say my name. He can’t see or hear me. Only you can.”

She took a deep breath and waited for the Doctor to finish speaking before she continued. “We’re mentally linked. It’s the conference call. I kept the line open.”

“Who are you talking to?” the Doctor wondered. “We need to get…”

He trailed off, voice nearly a whisper as he traced the familiar letters with his fingers.

“River.”

She hadn’t heard that name spoken from his lips for over a thousand years, and the sound of it now was both painful and sweet. She wanted to cry, to pull him down and kiss him, to straighten his bowtie as she had so many times before. But she wasn’t capable of any of that now. She couldn’t touch him. She was so close, and yet so, so far away.

“That can’t be right,” she heard Clara say, and the Doctor agreed.

“No, it can’t.”

“She’s not dead.”

He grimaced. “Oh, she's dead, I'm afraid. She's been dead for a very long time.”

It was strange, being referred to as dead. She was, technically, but it didn’t feel that way. But for him to say it like that, like she was long gone and never coming back, made it more real. So she hid her pain and spoke to Clara again.

“Yeah, probably should have mentioned that. Never the right time,” she said airily.

“But I met her.” Clara was very obviously confused, and this time River couldn’t blame her.

“Long story,” the Doctor said, not bothering to explain much. “But her grave can’t be here.”

He knew, the insufferable man. He knew where she was, why she couldn’t be buried on Trenzalore. He’d known all along, because he was the one who’d left her there.

And then the strange men with the blank faces appeared, and she spoke urgently to Clara.

“If it isn’t my gravestone, then what is it?”

Clara knew better than to say anything. She didn’t even look at River as she repeated the question to the Doctor.

“The gravestone?” he asked absentmindedly, and she wanted to yell at him not to be thick. He’d figure it out eventually, but they didn’t have time for that right now. To her, it was painfully obvious what the grave was.

“Maybe it’s a false grave,” she told Clara, who repeated it.

And he still didn’t get it. If she were alive, if she were really here, if he could see her or hear her, she’d sigh and roll her eyes, maybe say, “Really, sweetie?”

But as it was, she couldn’t do any of the things she wished she could. So instead she directed her next words to Clara.

“Maybe it’s a secret entrance to the tomb.”

“Maybe it’s a secret entrance to the tomb!” Clara told the Doctor excitedly, and finally he got it.

“Yes, of course,” he said, as if finally realizing it. “Makes sense. They'd never bury my wife out here.”

“Your _what_?!” It hurt to hear Clara’s surprise, to know that he never even talked about her, never even thought of her.

But she didn’t much time to dwell on the fact. The Doctor sonic-ed the false gravestone and they dropped, rather suddenly, down into the catacombs. It was an easy matter for her to follow them down.

The Doctor turned on a torch, which he’d pulled from some (doubtless bigger-on-the-inside) pocket, lighting up the dim interior.

“Where are we?” Clara wondered aloud.

“Catacombs.”

“I hate catacombs,” she said, quickly followed by, “So how come I met your dead wife?”

Oh, and what was he going to say to that one?

“Oh well, you know how it is when you lose someone close to you. I sort of made a back-up.”

If it weren’t for the situation, she would have laughed. The way he said it was so casual, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to save your dead loved ones to databases. As it was, she felt the need to clarify.

“I died saving him. In return, he saved me to a database in the biggest library in the universe. Left me like a book on a shelf,” River explained, not even bothering to hide the sadness in her voice. “Didn't even say goodbye. He doesn't like endings.”

But Clara didn’t have long to listen to her. The men were back, bursting through her like she wasn’t even there—she supposed she wasn’t—and they were coming after the living. River was safe enough; she was dead, ethereal. Nothing could hurt her anymore. She couldn’t feel anything, not really. Her pains were phantom, only electronic pulses sent from a database.

So why did it hurt so much when she saw her husband take Clara’s hand, heard him tell her to run? Why were her hearts breaking when she knew she had no hearts left to break?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song: My Immortal by Evanescence.

She followed at a distance, not paying much attention until the Whisper Men attacked the Doctor’s friends. She knew that she couldn’t let them die, not if she could help it. Even if it was okay for him to run around playing the hero, to run around letting people sacrifice themselves for his good, she wasn’t that kind of person.

He’d let her sacrifice herself, once, and she knew now how he felt about her. She wasn’t letting anyone else die for him. Not today.

So she said it. His name. One word, once the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard. Now it felt like poison coming from her lips. She saved them, his friends. She hoped he was grateful, even though he’d never know it was she who’d rescued them.

“The TARDIS can still hear me,” she said, mostly for her own benefit. Only Clara could see her, and Clara didn’t care. “Lucky thing, since him indoors is being so useless.”

“Why did you open the door, sir? I had them on the run.” It was Strax, always full of bravado.

“I didn't do it.” The Doctor looked confused, as well he should be. “I didn't say my name.”

“No,” she said. He was looking right at her, at where she would be standing if she were really there, and her hearts ached. It didn’t take much to imagine that he could see her, that in just moments he would meet her eye and give her that impossible, infuriating grin of his. “But I did.”

She half-expected him to meet her gaze, but he turned away from her, and the illusion was shattered.

“Is everyone all right? Is everyone okay? Clara? Clara? Clara, are you okay?”

Clara. Of course that was his first thought, for his precious girl. She tried not to be jealous, but there was no denying it. He’d moved on. That was what she’d have wanted for him. But he’d replaced her, and for that she couldn’t forgive him.

***

“I have to go in there,” Clara said, and River felt she had to intervene. She wasn’t letting another innocent young girl sacrifice herself for him. She remembered the stories of Rose, of Lynda, of Donna. Of herself, though she had been neither young nor innocent. She’d known what she was getting into, but she’d been too blind to see that he wasn’t the man she’d thought he was. Too in love to stop him from hurting her.

And Clara was the same way. She loved the Doctor, in her way, but she was young and naïve. She would sacrifice her life for the Doctor without a second thought. It would be a brave and heroic gesture.

It would kill her.

Some part of River wanted her to do it, if only so that the Doctor wouldn’t fall in love with her. But she knew what she had to do.

“Please, please, no,” the Doctor pleaded, and she could see how much this girl meant to him. And even though it tore her hearts in two, she could tell that Clara made him happy. And that was all she’d ever really wanted, in the end. For him to be happy, with or without her.

“Whatever you're thinking of doing, don't,” she told the girl.

_Don’t give your life for him. Don’t sacrifice yourself to save a man who, ultimately, will forget you. You may mean something to him now, but what about after a thousand years? Will he remember you then? Will he love you then?_

The last thought was addressed mostly to herself. She’d been stupid, naïve.

_Who else was I supposed to fall in love with?_

No one, she knew now. Love was a poison more fatal than even that of the Judas tree. She was dead now, but she hadn’t died in the Library. She’d died the moment she gave him her hearts.

“If I step in there, what happens?” Clara asked.

“The time winds will tear you into a million pieces. A million versions of you, living and dying all over time and space, like echoes,” she responded.

“But the echoes could save the Doctor, right?”

They could, but she wouldn’t let Clara make this sacrifice. She would take the young woman’s place if she could. But her sacrifice had already been made.

“But they won't be you. The real you will die. They'll just be copies,” she tried to reason with the girl.

“But they'll be real enough to save him. It's like my mum said. The soufflé isn't the soufflé, the soufflé is the recipe. It's the only way to save him, isn't it?”

She nodded, much as she wanted to keep the truth from Clara.

“Well, how about that? I’m soufflé girl after all.”

“No. Please!” the Doctor cried.

She wanted to stop the girl, but her part was done. She’d done what she could, and Clara had made her decision.

“If this works, get out of here as fast as you can. And spare me a thought now and then.”

_Don’t forget to remember Clara, just as you forgot to remember me._

“No, Clara,” he begged, but her mind was made up.

“In fact, you know what? Run,” she told him, a steely look in her eyes. “Run, you clever boy, and remember me.”

She stepped into the twisting white of the Doctor’s time stream, leaving him desperately calling her name.

Strax was the first to break the silence. “It was an unprovoked and violent attack, but that's no excuse.”

“We're all restored. That's all that matters now,” Vastra said.

“We are not all restored,” the Doctor said, and River could tell what he was thinking.

“You can't go in there. It's your own time stream, for God's sake!” He couldn’t hear her. Clara was gone… but she wasn’t, was she? Because River was still there, and that meant Clara was alive.

“I have to get her back.”

“Of course, but not like this.” Was she so easily replaced? Some selfish part of her was glad Clara had jumped into the time stream, glad that she couldn’t come between them. But she already had, River could see. And if the only way for the Doctor to be happy was to get Clara back, she would do what she could to help him.

“But how?” Jenny asked.

“Is she still alive?” Vastra wondered. “It killed Doctor Simeon.”

“Clara's got one advantage over the Great Intelligence,” the Doctor said grimly.

“Which is?”

Oh, but he was arrogant, wasn’t he? She knew what he was going to say long before he said it.

“Me.”

“Doctor, please listen to me,” she pleaded, not really hopeful that her words would make the slightest bit of difference. “At least hear me.”

“Now, if I don't come back, and I might not-“

“Doctor!” River cried. How did he do this to her? How did he make her feel this way? He’d left her, he’d forgotten, and still she loved him. Still she would do anything to be with him again.

“Go to the TARDIS,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard her—because he hadn’t, she reminded herself. “The fast return protocols should be on. She'll take you home, then shut herself down.”

“There has to be another way,” River said. “Use the TARDIS, use something. Save her, yes, but for God's sake be sensible!”

It was too much. She raised her arm, brought it towards him to smack him flat across the cheek as she’d done so many times before, realizing too late that it wouldn’t do any good.

His hand caught her wrist, encircled it.

If she’d been alive, she surely would’ve died of shock right then and there.

“How are you even doing that?” she asked when she could speak again. “I'm not really here.”

“You are always here to me,” he said, and she didn’t know what to think. “And I always listen, and I can always see you.”

“Then why didn't you speak to me?” There was so much more she wanted to say, but she couldn’t find the words.

“Because I thought it would hurt too much,” he replied.

“I believe I could have coped.” Her tone wasn’t icy, exactly, but it wasn’t friendly, either.

“No, I thought it would hurt me. And I was right.”

Selfish man. She wanted to slap him again, but he leaned down and kissed her and she couldn’t think any more.

He kissed her like he meant it, like this was the last time, and maybe he thought it was. She let out a sigh, pressed her lips to his as hard as she could, and for a moment she could believe he loved her.

Maybe he really did.

When he stepped away she took the time to look at him, just drink in the sight of him for what was possibly the last time. He was just as he’d always looked. _Her_ Doctor. She was glad she’d gotten to see him at least once more.

“Since nobody else in this room can see you, God knows how that looked,” he said, likely embarrassed, and she really couldn’t blame him. She gave a wry chuckle, and he addressed her again. “There is a time to live and a time to sleep. You are an echo, River. Like Clara. Like all of us, in the end. My fault, I know, but you should've faded by now.”

“It's hard to leave when you haven't said goodbye.” She knew she had to let him go, that their time together was over. But that didn’t make it any easier.

“Then tell me, because I don't know. How do I say it?” he asked, and her hearts broke a little with every word. She didn’t want closure. She didn’t want to say goodbye, because to say goodbye meant that it was over forever.

“There's only one way I'd accept,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. “If you ever loved me, say it like you're going to come back.”

_Don’t leave me alone_ , she wanted to say. _I’m not here, not really, but what does that matter? I can’t make you love me. I can’t make you come back. But if you ever really loved me, don’t leave me alone again._

“Well, then,” he said. “See you around, Professor River Song.”

For a moment she let herself believe that he’d return for her, that he’d somehow rescue her from the Library and they could be together again. But it was a dream as far off as the happily-ever-after she’d spent a thousand years believing in.

“Till the next time, Doctor,” River said.

“Don't wait up.”

She would. She always would.

But she wouldn’t make him wait up for her. If they never saw each other again, she at least wanted him to be happy.

“Oh, there's one more thing,” she said.

“Isn't there always?”

“I was mentally linked with Clara,” she told him, hoping he’d get the hint. “If she's really dead, then how can I still be here?”

“Okay, how?”

“Spoilers,” River said, and forced a smile to her face. She knew it was time for her to leave, but God, how she wanted to stay. She took a moment to meet his eyes one last time, to memorize his face so she could preserve it in memory for the rest of her existence.

“Goodbye, sweetie,” she said, and then she was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

The tide finally broke and the tears overflowed. She collapsed where she stood, not really caring where she fell. Her head hurt where she’d bumped it on something—she wasn’t sure what—but she pushed away the pain. It wasn’t real, anyway, but the pain in her hearts most certainly was.

She’d known sadness before, but never like this. Before, she’d always known she’d see him again. She’d always had the small reassurance that even “spoilers” could bring. Even when she’d looked into his eyes for the last time, she’d believed she’d never have to live without him. Now, though, she’d said goodbye once and for all. And she knew he wasn’t coming back for her.

The Doctor didn’t like endings.

He thought she’d faded, probably. According to him, she already should have. But she was undeniably here, dead yet still alive in some way.

He wasn’t coming back. She knew that with certainty now. And though she knew he was probably happy with Clara, living a new life without her, still she yearned to be with him again. She wanted to escape the computer, to return to how they used to be.

She should leave him alone. He was happy in his new life. He didn’t love her, or need her. She was a thing of the past.

But nevertheless she was determined to do whatever it took to get back to him.

***

“So, you’re saying that _you_ ”—River looked at her daughter skeptically—“saved 4022 people to the database and then spit them out when the Vashta Nerada had gone?”

“Essentially, yes,” Evangelista answered for Charlotte—CAL—as she had an annoying habit of doing. “But it was CAL who saved the people. Not your daughter.”

“These people, their physical forms were uploaded?”

“Yes,” Evangelista confirmed.

She turned it over in her brain, thought about it for a moment. If there was even a chance… but no. She shouldn’t even try. She should forget about the Doctor, let herself fade away like the ethereal thing she was.

The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“So, in theory, you could get me out of here?”

Evangelista shook her head. “It would be too dangerous. Your physical form was near death when you were brought here, for all intents and purposes dead already. To download you would kill you, Professor.”

“I’m already dead,” she pointed out.

“Yes, but your consciousness is saved to the data core. You are, in some sense, alive,” Evangelista countered.

“I’ve got nothing more to live for here. Tell me truthfully, is there any chance I’d make it out alive?”

Evangelista hesitated.

“Tell me,” she demanded, voice hard and cold.

“The odds of your survival are low. To attempt a download would essentially be suicide.”

“Essentially, or definitely?”

“Near definite.”

“So there’s a chance I could get out alive.” River summed it up for her.

Evangelista hesitated before finally nodding.

“Good. Can you do it now?”

“What?”

“Download me,” River said impatiently. “May as well do it sooner rather than later.”

“You’ll die,” Evangelista warned her.

“Almost certainly,” she said brightly.

“Doesn’t that matter to you?”

“I have to get out of here one way or another,” she said. “While I’m living like this, I may as well be dead. If I do survive this, maybe I’ll be able to pick up my life where I left off. And if I don’t… well, then, it will be a relief.”

“There’s nothing I can do to talk you out of this?”

River shook her head. “I’m sure.”

“Very well. Follow me.”

She thought about him while they walked, for once traveling in a normal fashion. There was no blink-and-you’re-there, no dreamlike acceleration of time. She looked around at the scenery, realizing it was the last time she’d see it, either way. Either she’d be alive and out of the database, or she’d be dead—properly this time.

She was surprised to find that she’d miss it a little bit.

But she thought of what was waiting for her on the other end, or rather _who_. Her Doctor was out there, somewhere, and though he’d broken her hearts and left her for dead, River knew that as long as she was alive she’d never stop loving him.

***

She sat in a chair with wires wrapped around her, encircling her head just as they’d done when she’d died. River drew in a shuddering breath and tried not to think about it too much.

She wasn’t afraid, not really. Like she’d told Evangelista, it would be a relief to be dead, to not have to hurt like this anymore. But some part of her still clung to life, clung to the notion that she could continue to exist like this, alive in the database. She’d be living a half-life, but at least she’d have a chance of seeing the Doctor again.

But she was deluding herself. She knew he wasn’t coming back, that he’d left her behind once and for all. He was happy now, with Clara, and she knew it wasn’t her place to intrude. But she was going to anyway, had to for her own sanity. She would escape the Library if it was the last thing she did.

It very well could be, she realized now. And though Evangelista had warned her that the chances of survival were low, it hadn’t seemed quite real until this moment. Everything was surreal here, dreamlike; it seemed impossible that she could die.

She took a deep breath as she heard the machine power up, felt the wires around her head buzz to life with a shock of electricity. It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly; just a tingling sensation where the circlet touched her forehead. She knew instinctively that the amount of electricity would have killed her had she been there physically, but she tried to ignore that fact and focus instead on taking deep breaths.

Her hearts fluttered, half-excited, half-nervous, and the Doctor’s face flashed through her mind. She couldn’t help but relive those last few moments with him, the kiss that shouldn’t have been possible but was anyway. They’d always broken the rules, she remembered with a bittersweet smile. Those were the good times: breaking out of prisons, defeating fish from the ninth dimension, nights spent aboard the TARDIS that seemed never to end.

 _The Doctor in the TARDIS. Next stop, everywhere._ He’d taken her all over the universe, showed her worlds she’d never have imagined existed. He’d given her so much, and she’d half-believed it would last forever.

_When you run with the Doctor, it feels like it will never end. But however hard you try, you can’t run forever._

Everything had to end. She knew that now. But she wasn’t about to accept it.

_Everybody knows that everybody dies._

But today wasn’t that day.

_Now and then, every once in a very long while, every day in a million days, when the wind stands fair and the Doctor comes to call—_

She took a deep breath in.

_—everybody lives._

She had died for him, and now she would live for him.

_See you around, Professor River Song._

His last words echoed in her mind, and she smiled as the light flashed bright in her eyes, blinding her before an electric shock coursed through her.

_See you around, sweetie._

Her last thought was of him before everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Father's Day to those of you in the USA. Be sure to tell your dads how much you love them! :)  
> -Ryann


	7. Chapter 7

He thought of her every day. Every little thing was a reminder of her, the one he’d lost. It had been his fault that she had died, and there wasn’t a day he didn’t replay that scene over and over in his mind on repeat.

_There she sits, like a queen on her throne, with a sad smile. Around her head she wears a circlet of metal like a crown. He doesn’t know her, doesn’t know what she means to him, but from the way she looks at him he has the feeling that she is going to mean as much to him in his next life as Rose means to him in this one._

_“You can let me do this,” he pleads, but there’s nothing he can do. She’s made sure of that._

_“If you die here, it’ll mean I never met you,” she says, and he can see the pain that causes her._

_“Time can be rewritten,” he argues._  

_“Not those times,” she says, and there’s a frantic desperation in her voice. “Not one line. Don't you dare.” She pauses, takes a breath. “It's okay. It's okay. It's not over for you.”_

_She’ll be dead in moments and still she tries to reassure him. He wonders what that says about who he is in the future, who they are together. He is used to being the one to do the reassuring, not the other way around._

_“You'll see me again. You've got all of that to come. You and me, time and space. You watch us run.”_

_“River, you know my name,” he says, and it’s a question._

_The computer counts down the end of her life, and he needs to know who she is, what she is to him._

_“You whispered my name in my ear. There’s only one reason I would ever tell anyone my name,” he says, and he’s afraid for himself, for what he’s losing. She means something to him, in the future. She’s the only one to know his name, his real name, since Gallifrey. “There’s only one time I could.”_

_There’s an unspoken question in his words, but she doesn’t answer him._

_“Hush, now,” she says, as if he’s the one that needs to be comforted. She’ll die, he knows she will. Not even a Time Lord would survive it, and she’s only human._

_“Four, three,” the computer counts down, and he strains against the handcuffs but they hold strong._

_“Spoilers,” River says._

_A flash of light, and then it’s over._

He’d been able to rescue Clara, thanks to River. She’d saved him more times than he could count, in more ways than he’d at first known, and even now, even after what he’d put her through, she had still helped him. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve her love, especially after he’d left her for so long.

He’d known it would hurt to see her again, and so it had. But it was a sweet kind of hurt, looking into those eyes, kissing her once more. He needed her more than ever now, and to see even an echo was a balm to his soul. He’d spent over a thousand years missing her, and he was determined that he’d miss her no longer.

He dropped Clara off at home, because his next destination was a place he needed to go alone.

The Library.

***

The Doctor input the coordinates for the day he’d left the Library, sure to arrive just a little while after his former self had left. It wouldn’t do to be in the same place at the same time. But the TARDIS gave a strange hum as he sent her through the vortex, and when he checked the coordinates again, they were different.

“What’re you playing at, old girl?” he muttered. Their destination was the same, but the time frame was different. 1305 years later, to be precise. He frowned, checked the external monitors, but nothing seemed to be any different outside. The Library was bustling, full of people, and he felt a burst of pride at the sight. CAL may have saved 4022 to the computer, but River Song had saved the entire Library.

River Song had saved him.

He stepped out of the doors, closing them with a snap of his fingers just as she’d told him he’d do someday. She’d been right. River had always been right.

Outside, the Library had an atmosphere of energy, people walking purposefully throughout the shelves. He’d seen the reports over the years, how they’d gotten rid of a nasty infestation of Vashta Nerada. He didn’t know the details of how they’d managed it, hadn’t looked too close at the articles. It hurt too much to even see the name of the place where she’d died.

The Doctor took his time in making his way down to the data core. He had to do this; he knew he did. Half of him ached to see her again, while the other half feared it would be too much. She’d always been the strong one, but this time he wanted to be strong for her, to be her protector for once.

It took him a while longer than he’d expected; there was some sort of commotion going on in the Library, a figure swathed in a sheet carried by him on a stretcher. But he had only one thing on his mind, and he was determined that nothing would keep him from his goal.

“No entrance, mate,” the man said when he tried to get into the data core, but he flashed his psychic paper and the problem was quickly remedied.

It wasn’t quite as deserted as he’d expected. A swarm of people in uniforms—probably employees of the Felman Lux Corporation—were gathered around the data core examining the very place where River had… had… he couldn’t even bring himself to think of it.

“Excuse me.” The Doctor tapped the shoulder of one of the men, who turned around after a moment.

“I’m sorry, but this area is closed to the public. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.”

“I’m afraid I’m not leaving,” he said, perhaps a bit crossly, but he was impatient. He showed them the psychic paper, not even bothering to check what it said himself.

“Oh, sorry, sir,” the man who’d spoken before apologized.

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself over it,” the Doctor told him. “Now, I want to know what happened here.”

The men exchanged troubled glances, looking at each other and then back to him before the original man spoke.

“You mean you don’t know? I thought everyone knew about the accident.”

The Doctor sighed; this happened far too often. “Let’s pretend I’m some sort of alien who arrived on this planet only recently, just for the sake of the conversation. Now tell me what happened. I want a complete report. All the details.”

The man exchanged a bemused glance with his partners before answering. “There was an accident here, sir. A woman—we don’t know how she got in here, it’s typically closed off to the public—but that’s not the point,” he concluded hastily, seeing the Doctor’s expression. “An unidentified woman was found here only minutes ago. She’d been badly burned, seemingly by some sort of electrical charge. It was almost as if she’d been electrocuted by connecting into the data core, but there are no loose wires. We’re at a loss as to what happened.”

“Anything else?”

He shrugged. “That’s all there is to tell.”

“What did she look like, this woman?”

“Dunno. Didn’t get a good glance at her.”

“Anything you can tell me. Details, remember. Did any of you see her?”

“I did, sir.” A young man stepped forward.

“Good, good, very good.” He knew he was rambling, but his hearts were suddenly beating faster with something that felt suspiciously like hope. “Can you tell me what she looked like?”

The young man shrugged. “She was dressed in white clothes, some sort of suit. All scorched and burned in places, so you could see the skin underneath. That was burned too. Probably a real beauty, but clearly she’d had a rough time of it recently. Had the wildest hair you’d ever seen, all… _springy_ , I guess is how I’d describe it.”

His hearts nearly stopped beating a moment. It sounded like they were describing… but that wasn’t possible, was it? She was long dead, only a ghost, if that.

“Space hair?” he asked, his voice urgent, feverish.

The young man chuckled a bit. “S’pose you could call it that. It was curly, reddish-blonde.”

“And you said she just… appeared, like she’d teleported in or something?”

The man nodded in confirmation.

“Was she…” his voice faltered, and he could hardly bring himself to finish the sentence. “Was she alive?”

The first man shrugged. “Who knows? Not like they’ll let us know. They’ll want to hush this up. Deaths here will give the Library a bad name. People’ll think it’s that Vashta Nerada nonsense all over again, but they fixed that hundreds of years ago now. Thought the place was cursed, they did. Still a lotta superstition hangin’ round this place. The corporation spent a hell of a lotta money to get the Library back to what it used to be.”

“Was she alive when they found her?” the Doctor asked, not taking note of anything else the man had said.

“I think so, yeah. They’ll have taken her to the hospital wing. Probably going to transport her off this planet soon as possible.”

But the Doctor wasn’t listening anymore. He’d already begun sprinting out of the room, only one thing on his mind.

***

It couldn’t be her. Could it? But she was dead. He didn’t know what to think. It was a miracle, if it truly was her. But it wasn’t possible. She was a ghost, nothing more. Still, part of him wondered if perhaps CAL had saved her at the last moment. Saved her body as well, just as she’d done with the 4022 people who’d been in the library when darkness had fallen.

It wasn’t possible. He tried not to get his hopes up. It probably wasn’t her, anyway, and even if it was, she wouldn’t survive long. There was no way anyone could live through that, not even River Song.

“Hello, I’m here concerning the recently admitted patient. You know the one,” he said, showing the receptionist the psychic paper. She admitted him, sending a nurse to guide him to where he needed to go. His hearts beat faster and faster as they walked down the corridor, hammering so hard in his chest that he was sure they would explode.

“Here we are,” the nurse told him, pushing the door open.

For a moment he couldn’t look, couldn’t breathe. He held his breath so long that his respiratory bypass kicked in.

“Is there something wrong?” The nurse’s voice jarred him back to the present. He shook his head, took a deep breath in.

“No, nothing at all,” he replied, and walked into the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! Thank you to those who have left kudos or comments, and to those who have bookmarked. I appreciate your interest in this story and your kind words!  
> I have finished up with the editing of the remaining chapters. It will be 26 chapters long when finished. I'm going to update twice a week, every Wednesday and Sunday. Hopefully that's a good amount of time to keep the story moving along quickly but not so fast as to be overwhelming since I'm sure you all have other things to do that are more important than reading fanfiction. I, unfortunately, have this small thing called "life" (maybe you've heard of it?) that keeps me busy from writing all day long, which is what I'd be rather doing. Haha.  
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see you Sunday.  
> -Ryann


	8. Chapter 8

“River,” he breathed, stopping dead. He simply stared for a moment, the sight of her—the _real_ her, the physical her—after so long completely surreal.

“Sir?”

“Sorry, sorry.”

“Do you know her?” the nurse, whose nametag, he noticed now, read Jenna L., asked him.

He didn’t answer for a moment, wondering what he should say before finally coming to the conclusion that he should tell the truth for once.

“I’m her husband.”

“But you said you were the doctor.” Jenna was obviously confused.

“Yes, I am.” This happened to him a lot in hospitals.

Fortunately, Jenna chose not to question him further. “Do you need a moment?”

“That would be nice, thanks,” the Doctor told her, and she nodded and left him alone with River.

She was hooked up to all manner of machinery, tubes and needles sticking out of her like she was some sort of porcupine. Her skin was badly burned in several places that he could see; the rest of her body was covered by a hospital gown. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was shallow, and when he crossed the room and laid a hand on her head, she seemed to be burning up- she had a high temperature for a human, more concerning considering she was part Time Lord.

“Oh, River,” he sighed, brushing a stray curl out of her eyes. He wanted to bend down and kiss her, wake her up as they always did in fairytales, but he knew that nothing but a miracle could bring her back from this. Even if he managed to get the hospital staff to allow him to take her back to the TARDIS, there was very little chance she’d live. The chances of a full recovery were astronomical, but then again, the chances of her surviving the download had been even lower. She’d always done the impossible for him, and here she was doing it again. She shouldn’t even be here, shouldn’t even have survived.

_It’ll burn out both your hearts, and don’t think you’ll regenerate._

It could have been him lying in that hospital bed, instead of her. It _should_ have been him. He’d take her place in an instant. All he’d ever done was destroy her. From the moment she was born, he’d ruined her life. And still she loved him. He didn’t deserve a woman like her.

A knock sounded at the door, and he straightened, crossed the room and opened the door. It was the nurse—Jenna—again.

“Are you all right? It must be hard to see her like this.”

He simply nodded, then took a deep breath. “She’s in pretty bad condition.”

“Yes,” Jenna agreed sadly. “We don’t know what happened to her, but it appears that she’s been burned. From the way she’s burned, we think that she may have attempted to hook herself up to the mainframe. The strangest part is, there were no wires where wires appear to have burned her. Also strange, there’s no security footage of her entering the data core, either. She just… appeared there. There was a power surge, which is why they sent people down to check on the core. When they got there, they found her.”

She paused. “You wouldn’t be able to give us any more details, would you?”

The Doctor sighed heavily.

“What about her name?” Jenna prompted. “Can you tell me her name?”

That, at least, he could do. “River Song. Professor River Song.”

Jenna blinked, seemingly recognizing the name. “But… sir, that’s impossible.”

“She always was,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing. Why do you say that?”

“Because, doctor, Professor River Song has been dead for over a thousand years. She died on this very planet. It’s simply impossible for this to be the same woman,” Jenna reasoned, giving him a strange look like she was questioning his sanity.

“Oh, it’s her, all right. Don’t you think I’d recognize my wife?”

“Well, yes, sir, but…” she seemed reluctant to question him, but she didn’t believe him, either.

“Tell me. How did River Song die?”

“There was an expedition to the Library, over a thousand years ago now. It was headed by Strackman Lux, who, along with four others, traveled to the Library to discover what had happened one hundred years previous. The entire Library had shut down—“

“Yes, yes, I know all that. What happened to her?”

“Professor River Song disappeared. Some accounts say she saved the Library, with the help of an unidentified man known simply as “the doctor.” No one knows, really. Only Strackman Lux himself made it out of the Library. They later recovered the bones of the other members of the expedition, but the remains of Professor Song were never found. It was assumed she’d been killed saving the Library. All this is recounted in Lux’s autobiography.”

“They never found her body,” the Doctor said, half to himself.

“You said you’re the doctor?” Jenna asked rather suddenly.

“I am,” he confirmed.

“You’re not…?”

“I am.”

“But… that’s not possible.” She shook her head, trying to make sense of it all. “It’s a millennium later! And you don’t match the description. No spiky brown hair, different suit. And where’s the ginger woman?”

“Donna,” he realized. “You mean me and Donna. She’s… safe. She’s at home, where she should be. As for me, well. People change, don’t they? I just change more than most.”

“You both should be dead! This is crazy. I’m going crazy,” she muttered.

“No, you’re not crazy. You’re right, this shouldn’t be possible. But River and I, we’re not exactly normal. We’re time travelers,” he explained.

“Time travelers.” She looked skeptical.

“Yes, time travelers. I have a time machine. The TARDIS. Time and Relative Dimensions in Space. Sometimes just Dimension, depending on my mood.”

“And why should I believe you?”

“I’ve got credentials.” He showed her the psychic paper.

“No, really.” She raised an eyebrow. “It’s a psychic paper. I’m not an idiot. May have worked to get you in here, _doctor_ , but it won’t work on me.”

“What?” The Doctor was completely blindsided.

“You could say I learned from the best. My parents taught me everything I know, including how to spot a fake. And you, _sir_ , are no doctor.”

“Yeah, I thought we’d been over this. I’m not _a_ doctor, I’m _the_ Doctor. Capital D, proper noun. Ringing any bells?”

“I think you’re a liar. You’re not a doctor, and she’s not River Song. Now, I don’t know why you would come in here and spin a crazy story like that, but I can tell you now, the Felman Lux Corporation certainly won’t be happy about it.”

“No!” he yelped, as her finger moved towards the intercom button. “No, I can explain. Honestly. Just give me a chance!”

“And why should I do that?” Jenna asked. “You’ve already proven yourself to be untrustworthy.”

“Look, I’ll show it to you. The TARDIS.”

She paused, and he could tell she was curious despite herself. Finally she sighed and let her hand drop to her side, safely away from the button. “All right. But if this some sort of scheme, I swear to God that I won’t hesitate to call the authorities. And don’t you dare try anything funny. I may not look tough, but I sure as hell know how to shoot a gun.”

She was right; she didn’t exactly look tough. Jenna was a young woman in her early twenties, with sharp blue-green eyes and light brown hair that was softly curled. She was perhaps a little taller than average, but she didn’t look particularly strong or vicious. The expression on her face, however, told the Doctor otherwise. She was a fighter, this one.

“I promise you, I’m telling the truth. Come on.” He offered her his hand, but she declined frostily.

“Lead the way. I’ll be right behind you, in case you try anything.”

“What did I do to deserve this?” the Doctor whined.

“I don’t trust you. Now, go.”

***

“Here she is,” he said proudly. “The TARDIS. My time machine.”

He snapped his fingers—he never could help but show off—and the doors opened. He walked inside.

“Well, are you coming?”

“You promise you won’t hurt me?” She sounded afraid, and the Doctor immediately felt guilty.

“No, of course not. I came here to find River, to save her. I would never hurt you.”

“Good. I’ll have you know I’ve got a gun.”

“I didn’t think they let nurses carry guns.”

“They don’t,” she said shortly, and stepped inside. “I’m not exactly a normal nurse.”

The Doctor grinned, preparing himself for the reaction that always followed.

“Bigger on the inside,” she stated, but much to his disappointment she didn’t run out and around as so many other people did.

“Yes.”

“So they _do_ exist,” Jenna murmured, looking around the inside. Her eyes lit up. “You weren’t lying.”

“Of course I wasn’t.”

“Oh, but this is wonderful! It travels in space, too, doesn’t it—not just time. I’ve read about this, but I never thought it was true! Time and Relative Dimensions in Space.”

“Right you are. Who did you say your parents were?” he wondered. She’d said before that she’d learned about the psychic paper from her parents. How much did she know, and how?

“I don’t think I did.”

So it wasn’t going to be that easy, then.

“I meant to ask, who are your parents?”

Jenna grinned, tore her eyes away from the console to meet his.

“Spoilers.”

She must have seen the cloud that came over his face at the word, because immediately the grin fell away and she asked, “What’s wrong?”

“She used to say that,” he murmured.

“Who?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He turned away, began walking out the door. He gestured for her to follow.

“Wait! Was it what I said? It’s just a word, Doctor—you know, what you say when you don’t want to spoil the ending of a book or something. You know, seeing as we’re in a library? That’s all. And I just met you—you’ll have to understand why I don’t want to answer personal questions. And…” she paused. “I don’t know, I kind of like the idea of starting over, you know? Like, when I meet someone, I don’t want them to judge me based on who my family is. I just want them to know me, for me. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He stopped, turned back towards her. “It’s okay, I just… that word means a lot to me.”

“She used to say that to you, didn’t she?”

He knew she was referring to River.

“How are you so good at guessing?” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

“I’m not. You’re just terrible at hiding your emotions,” she told him. “It’s easy to read you.”

“Is not,” he protested, and then changed the subject. “Come on, I’ve shown you, now off you pop.”

Reluctantly she left the TARDIS, casting one more longing glance at the console before stepping out of the doors.

“All right, how about you lead the way back to the room,” the Doctor told her once he’d locked the doors.

“As I recall, I told you to go first so you wouldn’t be able to try anything.”

“Well, you trust me now, don’t you?” he said, and she frowned at him. Finally he sighed and conceded, “Okay, if you want the truth, I’ve got no idea how to get back.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing a little. “Okay, I’ll lead. But let me remind you that I have killer reflexes.”

Jenna winked and set off down the hall, the Doctor trailing behind like a lost puppy.


	9. Chapter 9

River didn’t know where she was, only that she _was_. Was she dead? Was this what the afterlife felt like, what happened after you really died? She’d expected something… well, to be honest, _more_ than this. It was dark here, and everything seemed muted. Sometimes she thought she heard voices—once she’d thought she’d heard the Doctor’s voice, but it had slipped away before she could make out the words.

She drifted in and out; time passed slowly and then all at once, and rarely could she think clearly. When she could think, she thought of him. She relived their night on Darillium, their first and last kiss. She looked into his eyes and told him how much she loved him. She told him that no matter what, she was going to get back to him one way or another.

It was his fault she was here. She had every right to be angry with him, and she was. But the first thing she’d do when she got out of this infernal place was kiss him. She’d tell him all the things she’d never said. She’d be honest with him for once in her life, and she hoped he’d be honest with her, too. Because there was so much they’d never talked about. They’d skirted around their true feelings with _spoilers_ and _I hate yous_ and a million different excuses. He never knew whether she was telling the truth or hiding the damage. She never knew if he really loved her at all.

The second thing she’d do when she woke up was slap him, hard across the cheek like he deserved. After all, he’d put her through all this. He’d hurt her so much, and he’d never even realized it. Part of that was her fault, for hiding the damage. But part of her blamed him for it. Because he should have known, after all those years. She was the woman who’d married him, after all.

She didn’t know when or how she would get back to him. If she was dead, there was no undoing it now. But as long as she could think, and as long as she could feel, she would fight.

***

“So, you’re not going to report me, then?” the Doctor asked once they were back in the hospital room.

Jenna laughed. “I suppose not.”

“Do you trust me?”

She stopped, considered. “As much as one can trust a man she’s only just met.”

“Good. Because I’ve got a pretty big favor to ask.”

Jenna stopped short, froze in the middle of her task. She’d been redoing one of the bandages on River’s arm. “What is it?”

“Can I trust you?” he asked.

“As much as one can trust a girl he’s only just met,” she replied.

“All right, then.” He was apparently pleased by this statement. “I need to take River to the TARDIS. I’ve got better supplies there. If she’s to have any chance at all of surviving this, I need to take her with me.”

“Let me guess. You want me to cover for you.”

“Yep. You’re a quick one.”

“Like I said, you’re rubbish at hiding things. ‘Sides, it’s what I’d do were I in your position. It’s what anyone would do.”

“So, you’ll do it, then?”

“Didn’t say that, did I?” She smiled. “Just so happens, I will. You certainly picked the right person to help you with this one.”

“What do you mean?” he wondered.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, as if trying to think of an excuse. “I just mean, um, that not everyone would be willing to help with this.”

He nodded but didn’t question her. She was willing to help, and that was all that mattered.

“I’m going to move the TARDIS in here, and together we’ll move her. We’ve got to be careful—any sudden move could hurt her. Be right back,” he said, opening the door.

“Sure you can remember how to get there?” Jenna teased.

“I think I can handle it,” he responded. “I’ll be back soon. You know, time machine and all. I’ll be back in a few seconds.”

***

He wasn’t. She was just beginning to wonder where he’d got to when the TARDIS materialized with its signature sound. A smile crossed River’s face at the familiar noise, but Jenna didn’t notice. She was too busy staring at the time machine. It hadn’t seemed quite real until now, but here it was in all its glory. It actually _worked_. Her stomach fluttered in excitement.

The Doctor stepped out, looking pleased with himself, and crossed the room to his wife. He murmured something that Jenna couldn’t quite make out before returning to her with a cocky grin.

“Well, what do you say? She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

It took Jenna a moment to realize that he was talking about the TARDIS; initially she’d thought he was talking about River, who was, indeed, a beauty.

“Hmm? Oh, yes, very,” she replied. “Only… you’re late.”

“Am not,” he declared, as if that would make a difference.

“You are too. Look, it’s been nearly an hour since you left. I was beginning to wonder if you were coming back after all,” she said, showing him her watch.

_And what sort of time do you call this?_ River’s voice echoed through his mind, and he swallowed hard, wishing more than anything that she were here to scold him. He wasn’t complete without her.

“Sorry. Got a bit distracted,” he said. He had, he supposed—he _always_ managed to get distracted by something or another—but he’d thought he’d set the coordinates for the right time. Probably hadn’t, though. He was perpetually late. River would have corrected him. She was always coming around behind him, fixing his mistakes and then pretending as if she hadn’t done a thing. He’d never realized it when he was young; now, though, he made mistakes on purpose just to see that little smirk on her face. It was just one of the many things he loved about her.

“So. I guess we should get started?” Jenna prompted as he lapsed into silence.

“Right, sorry. Still a bit distracted, I suppose,” he amended hastily. “Right, then. Geronimo!”

***

She could have sworn she’d heard it. She would recognize that sound anywhere in the universe. It was the most beautiful thing she’d heard, the sound of the TARDIS. Never mind that it only made that sound because her space idiot always left the brakes on, and never mind that she complained about it all the time. Deep down, she loved it. She smiled—had the intent of smiling, anyway, as she didn’t think she had a physical form here—and for a moment she thought she heard his voice.

_Hi, honey, I’m home,_ it whispered in her ear.

But before she could determine if it was real or imagined, the moment ended and her mind was consumed by fog once more.

When she was again able to think clearly, she sensed that something was different. The atmosphere was much the same- it was still dark, but the dark felt warm and comforting rather than stifling. She heard a hum much like the one the TARDIS always made when it was trying to communicate with her, felt the nearness of the time ship. She tried to reassure her that everything was all right, but the darkness swooped in on her again and she couldn’t think anymore.

***

“There, much better.” The Doctor stood up, surveying the TARDIS sick bay with satisfaction. “Well done, Jenna.”

She held up her hand for a high-five, which he gladly gave. “Happy to help.”

“Thank you for everything,” he told her. “This means more to me than you know.”

“It’s no problem, honestly.” Jenna smiled.

The Doctor looked relieved. “If there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know.”

She laughed a bit. “No, it’s fine. I mean it, I was happy to help.”

He was silent for a moment, not really sure of what to say. “So, um, I guess this is goodbye.”

“Not forever,” Jenna said quickly. “Right? You’re coming back.”

 “I’m not sure,” he said honestly. “This place holds a lot of bad memories for both of us.”

He thought she looked a little bit sad at that, but she hid it with a bright smile.

“Well, I wish you both the best of everything.”

“You, too, Jenna,” the Doctor said sincerely. “Thank you.”

She realized that it was her time to go; she wanted an excuse to stay longer, but she really couldn’t think of anything legitimate. Trailing a hand along the side of the TARDIS as she went, she walked to the doors and stepped outside.

“Goodbye, Jenna,” he told her, and she hoped he’d be at least a bit sad to see her go. She’d only known him for a few hours, but he inspired her to be better, do greater things. Maybe she would.

“Goodbye, Doctor.”

_Till next we meet._

The TARDIS shimmered and dematerialized before her eyes. She turned around and wondered how on earth she was going to explain _this_ one to Father.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 4th of July tomorrow to those of you in the USA, and happy Canada Day on the first to those of you in Canada. :)

The first thing he did was heal her as much as he could, using his regeneration energy. He knew she wouldn’t approve of it—what had she called it in Manhattan, a “stupid waste of regeneration energy?”—but he didn’t care. It was his fault that she’d ended up this way, and he was going to do everything he could to fix it.

Physically, she was healed. It was only her mind that lay dormant, sleeping. There was nothing else he could do for her now; it was up to her to recover on her own. And though the Doctor knew that River Song had always been a fighter, he wasn’t so sure she would be able to get herself out of this one. And would she even want to, if she could? She probably thought he’d forgotten about her, that he’d never loved her at all. And he really couldn’t blame her.

How could he tell her that he’d never loved anyone the way he loved her? He’d never forgotten her, not for one instant, and he knew he never would. And if she made it through this, he swore to himself that he’d tell her everything. No more spoilers, no more hiding. He would show her how he felt about her.

Right now, however, the best thing he could do was let her rest and be there when she needed him. With a sigh, the Doctor sat down to wait.

***

He was terrible at waiting. Who was he kidding? He always had to be up and about, doing something or another. He tried to read a book, but he was such a fast reader that he finished in a matter of minutes. Next he’d decided to make some tea, but he burned himself on the kettle, prompting the TARDIS to give a comforting (but slightly amused) hum. He had the feeling she was laughing at him, so he scowled and straightened his bowtie.

Maybe it was time to pick up Clara. He needed someone to take his mind off things, and he had the feeling that his Impossible Girl would be able to help. He set the coordinates for just moments after he’d left her, and for once he arrived right on time.

“Clara! Care to join me?”

She raised an eyebrow. “And what brings you back so soon? You’re never so prompt.”

“I wanted to be sure you’d be here,” he explained, grabbing her hand. “Now come on! There’s a meteor shower happening—it’s supposed to be beautiful and it only ever happens once, and if we hurry we can get there on time.”

“You’ve got a time machine, oh clever one,” she told him. “You can see the meteor shower whenever you want.”

“Please?” he whined.

Clara sighed. “Fine.”

She hid her fond smile well as he all but pulled her off her feet and into the TARDIS. The time machine gave an uncomfortable hum at the new arrival, causing Clara to frown. Though she wasn’t exactly close to the time machine—it hadn’t liked her at first—she could feel it enough to know that something was different. She paced around the console room as he pushed buttons and flipped switches, trying to figure it out. Finally she decided just to ask.

“Doctor,” she began, “something’s different. Where have you been?”

“Oh, here and there,” he answered vaguely, and she suspected that he wasn’t really paying attention to her—or to where they were going, for that matter. There was something else on his mind.

“ _Doctor_ ,” she said again, more insistently this time. He paused what he was doing to look at her.

“What?”

“Where did you go between when you dropped me off and when you got back?” She cut him off before he could answer. “And don’t lie, I know you’ve been _somewhere._ ”

“Oh, I just went to visit an old friend,” he said, returning to flipping switches seemingly at random. “Nothing important.”

Clara put her hands on her hips. “You’ve been to see River, haven’t you?”

“Why is everyone _so_ good at telling what I’m thinking?” he muttered.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing. Yes, I’ve been to see River,” he admitted.

“And?”

“And nothing. She’s gone, Clara. She’s been dead for a long time.”

“But you can’t let her go, can you?” she asked. “You love her still.”

He stopped dead, his hands pausing in the midst of flipping another lever. “What makes you say that?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just… she was sad, when she talked about you. That’s why I thought she was your ex. She talked about you like she knew your good times together had run out, and she’d resigned herself to a life without you.”

Clara paused. “She talked about you like she had loved you, like she still loved you even without any expectation of being loved in return. Why didn’t you ever talk about her?”

“I did,” he persisted stubbornly. “I said I knew a Professor Song, didn’t I?”

“That’s not what I meant and we both know it.” She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him that _look_ until finally he caved with a sigh.

“It hurts too much. I… it was my fault. I ruined her life, Clara, and even in death I couldn’t leave her in peace,” the Doctor said, and the guilt in his voice made Clara’s stomach twinge. “She loved me, and see what I gave her in return? I’m good at running. Too good. I left her behind because it hurt to talk about her, to even _think_ of her. And trust me, not a day goes by that I don’t think of her. Not a night goes by that I don’t see her in my dreams.”

They were silent for a moment before Clara dared speak again.

“Did you find her?”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. On some level he wanted her to know, but on the other hand, this was private. She was there, in the other room, lying there as if asleep. But she might never wake up. And if she didn’t, it would be his fault again. He wanted someone other than himself to know about her, but to acknowledge her existence would be to make her death, when it came, all the more real.

“Doctor?” she asked gently.

“I found her,” he said.

“And was she…?”

“Alive? Barely,” he told her grimly. “My fault. Again.”

“She’s here, then?” She knew he wouldn’t trust anyone else with someone as precious to him as River Song.

“Yes.”

“And do you think she’ll be all right?”

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly, and she could hear the despair in his voice. “River has always done the impossible. Escaping that computer at all was impossible. But I don’t know if she can survive this.”

She crossed the room, put her arms around him and he let her, sagging into her arms like a small child. When she looked at his face she could tell he was almost crying, which was a shock in and of itself. The Doctor didn’t cry unless he was certain.

Whatever had happened to River Song, it wasn’t good.

“Can I see her?” she asked, hoping she wasn’t being too pushy. Clara had a habit of being bossy, and it usually worked out well for her, but she knew she had to tread carefully here.

He nodded silently, took her hand and lead her out of the console room and down a hallway. They arrived at the sick bay in a matter of seconds, thanks to the TARDIS, who had conveniently rearranged the layout of the ship. It was a small room containing many cabinets and a single bed in which lay the Doctor’s wife.

The Doctor’s wife. It was odd for Clara to think of her as that. He’d never seemed the type for domestics, and she supposed that this woman had to mean very much to him for him to even consider marrying her.

Watching him look at River, she felt a little pang. He loved Clara, too, in a way, but the tenderness in his eyes as he brushed back a strand of River’s curly hair was something more. Once Clara had fancied him her boyfriend, thought how lucky she was to have his hearts to herself. But the way he loved Clara was nothing to this. His love for River was something more than could even be expressed in words.

She was even more beautiful in real life than Clara had remembered, looking peaceful in her sleep. River looked healthy on the outside; her skin was smooth and unscarred, and her lips curved in a small smile. But she lacked the life, the vitality that even her ghost had possessed. That spirit, the indomitable ferocity with which she approached life, was gone, and Clara was struck with a deep sadness for this woman she hardly knew and for the man who loved her.

“Do you want some time alone?” she asked softly, but his gaze snapped back over to her.

“No! No, please don’t go,” he all but begged, and she nodded.

“It’s alright, I’m here. I’ll stay as long as you need me to,” Clara promised soothingly, taking a seat in one of the chairs in the corner of the room.

He looked immensely relieved. “Thank you.”

She smiled. “It’s no problem.” She would do anything for him in his time of need; on some level she knew she loved him, if not as something more than at least as a friend. And when he needed her, she would be there. She would always be there for him.


	11. Chapter 11

“What was she like?” Clara asked a while later. It had been long enough since they’d spoken that she was struggling to stay awake; the Doctor may not have needed much sleep, but Clara was very human indeed.

“Hell in high heels,” he told her, and from the way he said it she knew he’d described her as such before.

_It was always going to be her. She doesn’t even have to turn around for him to know—he’d recognize those untamable curls anywhere._

_“Hi, honey, I’m home,” he says, and she turns to face him. Her right eye is covered by one of the patches—eye drives, apparently—that everyone here wears, but her other eye glints, steely and determined. There’s no trace of mirth as she speaks._

_“And what sort of time do you call this?”_

_But Madame Kovarian answers for him. “The death of time. The end of time. The end of us all. Oh, why couldn't you just die?”_

_“Did my best, dear,” he says, and it’s a challenge to River. “I showed up. You just can't get the psychopaths these days._

_“Love what you've done with the pyramids,” he remarks, to River this time. “How did you score all this?”_

_“Hallucinogenic lipstick,” she replies. Of course. When it isn’t a gun, it’s lipstick. He should’ve known; she’s killed him that way, after all. “Works wonders on President Kennedy. And Cleopatra was a real pushover.”_

_“I always thought so,” he says._

_“She mentioned you.”_

_“What did she say?” he wonders._

_“Put down that gun.” Ah, of course. First the lipstick, then the gun._

_“Did you?” he asks._

_“Eventually,” she says with that smirk he so adores, though he’ll never admit it._

_“Oh, they're flirting. Do I have to watch this?” Kovarian mutters in the background, but his attention is focused on the woman in front of him._

_“It was such a basic mistake, wasn't it, Madame Kovarian?” River asks, but it’s not really a question. “Take a child, raise her into a perfect psychopath, introduce her to the Doctor.”_

_Her gaze is intense, fixed on his. “Who else was I going to fall in love with?”_

_“It's not funny, River,” he says, because this isn’t the time for declarations. “Reality is fatally compromised. Tell me you understand that.”_

_Of course she does. She knows very well what she’s doing, believes that this is the only way to save him._

_“Dinner?” she asks lightly, avoiding a response._

_“I don't have the time,” he replies coldly. Surely she sees this can’t go on? “Nobody has the time, because as long I'm alive, time is dying. Because of you, River.”_

_“Because I refused to kill the man I love,” she challenges him._

_“Oh, you love me, do you? Oh, that's sweet of you,” he responds, keeping her talking as he moves towards her. “Isn't that sweet. Come here, you.”_

_“Get him!” Amy cries. So they know what will happen if he touches River. She’s too clever for her own good, that woman._

_Soldiers grab him, pull him back._

_“I'm not a fool, sweetie.” She is many things, he knows, but a fool isn’t one of them. Regardless, for a woman as smart as River Song this is an extremely foolish idea. “I know what happens if we touch.”_

_He lunges towards her, grabs her arm._

_“Get off me,” she says, and then more insistently. “Get him off me!”_

_“Doctor, no. Let go! Please Doctor, let go!” Amy shouts at him._

_“It's moving. Time's moving!” one of the scientists cries, and he feels relieved._

_“Get him off me! Doctor!” River cries, and he can hear the panic in her voice. It almost makes him let go, but he knows what has to be done._

_“I’m sorry, River. It's the only way,” he tells her. She’s breathing fast now, and if he didn’t know her better he’d say she’s close to tears. But this is River Song. River Song doesn’t cry. The lakeside flashes before them for a moment before the soldiers finally manage to remove his hand from her wrist._

_“Cuff him,” she spits, and he can’t tell if she’s more worried or angry._

_“Oh, why do you always have handcuffs?” he complains before getting back to the subject at hand. “It's the only way. We're the opposite poles of the disruption. If we touch, we short out the differential. Time can begin again.”_

_“And I'll be by a lakeside killing you.”_

_“And time won't fall apart. The clocks will tick. Reality will continue. There isn't another way.” This has to be done. He doesn’t want to put her through this, doesn’t want her to have to do this for him. But there’s no other way. It’s a fixed point._

_“I didn't say there was, sweetie,” she replies, and she sounds sad. There is no other way; they both know it, but she isn’t willing to let him go._

_“There are so many theories about you and I, you know,” she continues, and the façade falls back into place, the sadness vanishing from her expression as if it had never been there at all._

_“Idle gossip,” he tells her._

_“Archaeology,” she counters._

_“Same thing.” There’s an exasperated edge to his voice._

_“Am I the woman who marries you, or the woman who murders you?” River asks._

_“I don't want to marry you,” he says, and he doesn’t. She’s absolutely mad._

_He won’t admit that he’s drawn to her for that very reason. Ever since the first day he met her, he’s always known he would fall in love with her. How could he not love River Song? But he’s scared. He’s not ready for this, and so he’s been running from her ever since._

_“I don't want to murder you,” she says, and she doesn’t. He’s the best man she’s ever known. She’s in love with him; has been from the very start. Even if he never feels the same way for her, she will keep on loving him. His words sting, but she’ll never admit it. She hides who she really is under smirks and flirtations, hides her true feelings when it matters most._

_Maybe it’s time for both of them to stop running._

He told Clara about how he married her atop a pyramid, about how their kiss had the power to start time again. He could almost see it, the blinding light as she healed the universe, as she sacrificed herself for him once again. She’d gone to prison for it, and yet she’d still managed to love him. He looked at her now, tried not to cry. Everything that had ever happened to her, it was his fault. He’d been nothing but a curse to her, and she’d given him everything. She’d _loved_ him.

And never once had he managed to tell her what he really felt for her.

A tear rolled down his cheek, splashed onto the floor, and he raised a hand to his face, wiped it away. She was everything to him, and she’d never known. Would never know, probably.

He could almost feel it, the pressure of her lips against his, his fingers entangled in her hair, pulling her ever closer. He’d thought he didn’t need to say it for her to know. She’d always known, even when he himself hadn’t. Or so he’d thought.

She was too good at hiding the damage. He wasn’t good enough.

“You loved her even then,” Clara stated, and it wasn’t a question.

He nodded. “Yes.”

“It’ll be okay, Doctor,” she tried to reassure him. “She’s here now, isn’t she? She’ll be all right.”

“It’s impossible,” he muttered.

“Nothing’s impossible, Doctor,” Clara said sharply. “Talking to the Impossible Girl here, or don’t you remember?”

She paused. “Actually, scratch that. Impossible Girls. We’re your Impossible Girls, Doctor, and we’re never going to leave you.”

The Doctor attempted a smile. “I’m glad you’re here, Clara.”

“Me, too,” she told him. “It’ll be okay, I promise. It will be all right if we all stay together.”

He nodded and tried his very best to believe her.

***

All the while, she slept. He tried to distract himself with board games and trips to other planets and books from the expansive TARDIS library. Once he even went to a spa with Clara. But time only served to intensify the ache which lay heavy in his hearts, and the distractions were to no avail. Wherever they were, he wished she were with them. He could almost see her mane of curly hair disappearing around a corner, almost hear her barely-disguised innuendos echoing through the air.

He missed her more than he’d missed anyone in his entire life. He’d left many behind over the years, it was true, but this was worse than any of those times. This was pure torture. She was so close and yet so far away from him.

He visited her every day, told her stories and smoothed back her hair. He whispered to her in Gallifreyan how much he loved her, leaned down to kiss her lips and hoped she’d wake up like some sort of Sleeping Beauty. Sometimes he thought he saw a smile cross her features, but it always flickered away before he could be certain. He hoped that, wherever her mind was now, she was happy. He hoped she knew she was loved, that she was missed. He hoped she’d come back to him, if she ever got the chance.

But she remained silent and unmoving, a ghost of the woman she used to be. He tried to deny the paleness that was beginning to come to her cheeks, the new limpness of her hair. To him she would always be perfect, always be beautiful, but he knew with each passing day that he couldn’t avoid the truth. River was dying, and without a miracle she would soon slip away from him yet again. Even the TARDIS wouldn’t be able to sustain her for much longer.

He sat by her bedside and hoped beyond hope that a miracle would arrive.

***

Everything was like a dream, like she was half-asleep but she couldn’t wake up. She knew where she was, knew when someone was with her. Whispers drifted through to her half-consciousness, snatches of the conversation around her. She never heard all of the words, but she knew instinctively that something was wrong. She knew she wasn’t supposed to be here, that this half-sleep was preventing her from…

From what? She didn’t remember anymore. Why was she here? Where was here? Who was she? She didn’t know. There was only the pressing urgency that came over her sometimes. She knew she had to leave this place, one way or another. She had to get back to where she was before.

There was a before, of that she was certain. Sometimes she dreamed, like she really slept. Half-formed images flashed in the darkness and _she is running like her life depends on it, because it does._

_He takes her hand in his, more by instinct than by conscious decision. The water in the fish bowl splashes all over her nice dress, but she doesn’t care anymore. They’re laughing as they run, giddy with the excitement of the night. It began with a party—it usually does, when it comes to them—and now it’s turned into a… well, River doesn’t know what to call it, exactly._

_They stop, panting, when they reach the TARDIS. She grins at him, taps on the glass of the fishbowl._

_“Her Majesty is a goldfish.” She throws her head back, laughs giddily. “Here we are, with the queen in a fishbowl!”_

_“It’s not funny, River,” he tells her, but from the way the corners of his mouth twitch she knows he’s close to laughing, too._

_“Oh, come on,” she says, elbowing him. “It’s funny.”_

_“No, River, it’s not. It’s quite serious, actually. The queen is a_ goldfish _and her son is definitely going to notice that she’s missing really soon and—”_

_“Shut up!” she interrupts him good-naturedly._

_“Make me.”_

_“With pleasure.” She plants a firm kiss on his mouth, pushing the fishbowl out of the way. His fingers thread their way through her hair, and—_

_“WE DEMAND THAT YOU SURRENDER NOW.”_

_“Oh, lovely,” River says dryly, breaking the kiss. “It’s those fly creatures again.”_

_“They’re not ‘fly creatures,’ River, they’re—”_

_“Yeah, yeah, call them whatever fancy name you want. They’re just flies with a Napoleon complex. Get in the TARDIS, I’ll hold them off.” She practically shoves him through the doors, whips a gun out._

_“I’m armed,” she warns, and gets a belligerent buzzing noise in response as they swarm towards her. They may claim to be warriors, but she merely raises an eyebrow and shoots into the cloud, hitting several of the small creatures._

_“That the best you can do?” she challenges them as they regroup, glancing out of the corner of her eye towards the TARDIS doors. She wishes the Doctor would hurry up; they may be small, but those little flies can sure bite._

_She doesn’t have to wait long._

_“River, we’ve got the wrong fish!”_

_“What?” she calls back, but he’s already disappeared back into the TARDIS. She doesn’t really need clarification, anyway; she heard him perfectly well. Trust her husband to grab the wrong fishbowl._

_This is going to be a very long night._

She thought that sometimes she heard a voice she recognized. It was sweet, familiar, and it made her feel a range of conflicting emotions. She lived to hear that voice—if you could even call this living. It was the only time she felt anything.

That voice confused her, to say the least. The sound made her want to cry and laugh and punch something all at the same time. Her hearts ached and felt like they were full to bursting with happiness, and she wondered who it was that could make her feel like this. She hated him and loved him, that being she could never quite remember. He lingered in the back of her mind, always there but never fully realized, the way a dream flits away in the instant before you awake.

She drifted there in the blackness, alone but for the ghosts of her past. She wanted nothing more than to remember, but all she seemed to be able to do was forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and especially the flashbacks; I had a great time writing those scenes, especially the goldfish one. Thanks for reading!  
> -Ryann


	12. Chapter 12

He didn’t know what he could do to get through to her. He’d already done all he could, healed her as much as was possible. It was up to her to bring herself back now, but really there was no reason why she should. He was selfish, thinking he meant that much to her. He knew he should let her go, let her move on. She deserved that much.

“She’s better off without me,” he muttered one day, thinking out loud. Clara was in the kitchen, making yet another of her failed soufflés, while he sat at the counter and read a book, or tried to, anyway.

“Hmm?” Clara looked away from her soufflé and up towards him.

“What? Oh, nothing,” he said hurriedly. “It’s nothing.”

For once she didn’t question him, choosing instead to go back to her cooking. It was only several hours later (after the soufflé had met the same unfortunate fate as its predecessors and the TARDIS had been cleared of the resulting smoke) that she brought it up again. They were sitting at the table now, eating spaghetti (which, as the Doctor had pointed out, was a lot easier to make than a soufflé).

“She loved you, you know,” Clara said suddenly, causing the Doctor to start and drop his fork, spraying marinara sauce across the table.

“What?”

“She loved you. River. She wouldn’t have wanted you to give up on her.”

“Who said anything about giving up on her?”

“You may not have said it, but I know you well enough to know that you’ve been thinking about it,” Clara declared.

He lowered his fork, suddenly finding that he wasn’t really hungry. When he spoke, his voice was hushed and sad.

“I’m not giving up, Clara. I’m letting go. There’s a difference.”

“Not when there’s still a chance for her,” she said stubbornly.

He was silent for so long that she felt the need to speak again.

“You think there’s no chance, then?” Clara asked quietly, and he nodded.

“It’s impossible.”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

“Yes, well, I only _said_ those things were impossible,” he said shortly. “Makes it more impressive when I manage to do them anyway. Improbable, yes. Impossible? No.”

She wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she settled for another bite of spaghetti and a drink of water.

“I’m sorry,” she said at last. It wasn’t what she really wanted to say, or what he wanted to hear, but it was the best thing they had.

***

She didn’t know what was different, but somehow she knew something had shifted. It had begun with a sensation like electricity shooting through her veins, and there it remained, tingling and sparking. For the first time in a long time, _she feels alive._

_They’re always running; she still insists on those ridiculous high heels all the same, but invariably they’re thrown to the side when the chase begins. This was meant to be a relaxing night, a fancy dinner under the stars. Of course, knowing them, it didn’t end up that way._

_Once they’ve escaped their pursuers, they collapse to the ground outside the TARDIS in breathless bliss, full of happiness and the excitement of adventure. When their breathing finally settles back into a normal rhythm, she turns to him and smiles._

_“So much for dinner.”_

_He grins. “I promise you, someday we’ll make it through the dessert.”_

_“I don’t mind if we never do, sweetie.” River laughs. “But you do owe me about… oh, I’d say seventeen pairs of shoes.”_

_“It’s_ your _fault you wear such ridiculous footwear,” he mutters, and she smirks._

_“It’s your fault we always have to run. Honestly, my love, you’ve simply got to stop picking arguments with alien bartenders that are three times your size. Were you really expecting it to go any differently this time? After all this time you’d think you’d have learned.” She rolls her eyes, straightens his bowtie affectionately._

_“You just said you didn’t mind,” the Doctor points out._

_She chuckles. “You always make it worth my while.”_

_He almost visibly swells with pride, that smug grin of his she so loves coming to his face. “Of course I do, Doctor Song.”_

_River laughs again, gives him a wink. “How about that dessert, then?”_

She remembered him. Just bits and pieces, flashes of memory, but she wondered how she could have forgotten. She opened her eyes and his lips touched hers and for a moment she remembered what it was she was missing. His eyes were closed and his bowtie was askew and she wanted nothing more than to reach out and straighten it like she always did. But her arms wouldn’t move and he pulled away soon, too soon, and her eyes slammed shut and everything was endless black again.

She forgot.

***

He’d given up, Clara realized with a sharp jolt. After everything, he’d given up on her. She’d known for a while that he wasn’t hopeful, but only now did she realize that it was going to be up to her.

Watching him pick at the spaghetti, twirling it around his fork and then letting it drop back onto the plate, she resolved to do what she could for River. Though she’d gotten the feeling the Doctor’s wife wasn’t especially fond of her, and there was, frankly, a part of her that wished River had never come back, Clara knew how much River meant to the Doctor. He blamed himself for so many things, but he never stopped to remember all the people he’d saved. He dwelled only on the losses, and she was afraid that losing River might be the last straw for him. He had a thousand years of regrets to live with, and he didn’t need one more.

There was some selfish part of her that wished he would just give up, let River go. But she knew deep down that it wasn’t the right thing to do. Clara had loved him for a long time, but she’d always known he’d been holding something back from her. Now she knew why, and it stung. He had lead her on, in a way, and though sometimes she really believed he had no idea what he was doing to her, it hurt. Part of her wished River would leave for good, so that he wouldn’t have a reason to hold back anymore. But another part knew he’d never really been holding anything back. He’d simply never loved her the way he loved River Song.

She cleared away his plate without even asking, but he didn’t even acknowledge her. He sat silently, grimly, tracing patterns onto the table under his fingertips. From the circular motion she could tell it was Gallifreyan. She wondered what it said.

Later, while he was in the workshop trying to distract himself with fancy gadgets, she made her way to the sick bay and sat down where the Doctor usually sat. He’d come here less and less frequently as of late, she realized now. He didn’t want to face her, to feel the guilt Clara knew he felt.

How had River Song fallen in love with him, after everything? But that wasn’t the right question, Clara realized. A better question would be, how could anyone _not_ love the Doctor? She’d fallen for him immediately. He was clever and kind and somehow he brought out the best in everyone around him. He was one in a million. She was lucky to know him.

River’s eyelids fluttered as if she was dreaming, her cheeks looking flushed and feverish against her pale skin. Limp strands of hair clung to her sweaty forehead, and her breathing was labored. The Doctor was right; she wasn’t looking good. But Clara refused to give up yet.

_We’re your Impossible Girls, Doctor, and we’re never going to leave you._

She hoped she’d been right.

***

_You’re afraid_ , a voice whispered through the darkness, wove its way through the fog and into her head. _You’re too afraid to try._

_I’m not afraid_ , she tried to say, but the words wouldn’t come out.

_You’re famous for hiding the damage, aren’t you, Professor Song?_ She knew that voice. Once it had whispered to her from a spacesuit in a library. Once it had spoken to her from beneath a black veil.

She tried to block it out, to not listen, but it was everywhere, surrounding her, and she couldn’t escape.

_You’re good at hiding, even from yourself._

This wasn’t possible. She couldn’t be here. She was in CAL, in the Library, and-

She remembered now, all at once. Her memory flickered in and out like the green light on Evangelista’s space suit and _“Miss Evangelista, please state your current—”_

_The voice echoes nearby, and she tries again._

_“Please state your current position.”_

_She’d known immediately what she was going to find; even so, she’d let herself hope for a second that it wasn’t true. She takes the communication unit from Evangelista’s skeleton and steps back._

_“It's her. It's Miss Evangelista.”_

_“We heard her scream a few seconds ago. What could do that to a person in a few seconds?”_

_“It took a lot less than a few seconds,” the Doctor tells Anita._

_“What did?”_

_“Hello?” The unit echoes with her voice. She’s dead now, but a part of her lingers._

_“I'm sorry, everyone,” River says. “Er, this isn't going to be pleasant. She's ghosting.”_

_“She's what?” Donna asks, but River doesn’t have time to answer because the ghost speaks again._

_“Hello? Excuse me. I'm sorry. Hello? Excuse me.”_

_“That's, that's her, that's Miss Evangelista.”_

_River feels sorry for the ginger woman. This is something nobody should ever have to see, and especially someone who came here without knowing the risks._

_“I don't want to sound horrible, but couldn't we just, you know?” Dave asks, and though she feels the same way she can’t help but feel a flicker of anger at his words._

_“This is her last moment. No, we can't,” River says shortly. “A little respect, thank you.”_

_“Sorry, where am I? Excuse me?”_

_“But that's Miss Evangelista,” Donna repeats._

_“It's a data ghost,” River explains. “She'll be gone in a moment.”_

_She turns on her communication unit, speaks into it. “Miss Evangelista, you're fine. Just relax. We'll be with you presently.”_

_“What's a data ghost?” Donna asks, but the Doctor answers before River has to._

_“There's a neural relay in the communicator. Lets you send thought mail. That's it there. Those green lights. Sometimes it can hold an impression of a living consciousness for a short time after death. Like an afterimage.”_

_“My grandfather lasted a day. Kept talking about his shoelaces,” Anita mutters._

_“She's in there,” Donna says, and River feels a stab of sympathy. There’s nothing anyone can do for Evangelista anymore except stay with her, reassure her until it’s over._

_“I can't see. I can't. Where am I?” the voice asks._

_“She’s just brain waves now. The pattern won't hold for long,” Dave says._

_“But, she's conscious.” River can hear the worry in Donna’s voice. “She's thinking.”_

_“I can't see, I can't. I don't know what I'm thinking.”_

_“She's a footprint on the beach,” the Doctor says. “And the tide's coming in.”_

_And there’s nothing any of them can do to stop it._

She’d left them behind in the Library, in the database she escaped from. But had she really escaped? She was stuck here now and _where am I?_ echoed in her mind.

_Oh, yes, Professor,_ Evangelista’s voice said, but she knew it was a trick of her own mind, her own subconscious come to drown her. Evangelista wasn’t here. She never had been. It had been River herself the whole time. _It’s time to stop lying to yourself._

_I’m not lying._

_Stop hiding, River. You’re too old for fairytales now. It’s time to grow up and face the truth._

_He loves me_ , she argued, but she’d lost already. It was impossible to win an argument against oneself.

_Who said anything about him? But you’re right, you know. You’re afraid, River Song. You’re afraid he never loved you. You’re afraid he never will._

_He loves me_ , she repeated.

_Keep saying that, sweetie._

_You’re wrong._

_How can I be wrong? I am, after all, you._

_You’re wrong._

_You’re lying to yourself._

_You’re wrong._

_He never loved you._

_You’re wrong!_

_And he never will._

_YOU’RE LYING-_

Black.


	13. Chapter 13

“Doctor!” Clara yelped, backing away from the bed rather hurriedly. He heard her shouts and arrived in a matter of seconds.

“Clara! What’s wrong?”

She raised a finger to point at River, lying on the bed in much the same position as before. Now, however, something had changed.

Her eyes were open.

He sucked in a deep breath, held it for so long his respiratory bypass kicked in before he took another lungful of air. This wasn’t possible, not by his calculations. But then again, she’d always done the impossible for him. This was the woman who’d made a Dalek beg for mercy, who had destroyed time itself just to save him. He shouldn’t be surprised.

“River?” he breathed, the sound barely a whisper. She didn’t move, didn’t speak. Her eyes closed, opened again. She blinked.

The Doctor approached her cautiously, as if afraid she could disappear at any moment, and maybe she could. She looked small and fragile under the sheets, her skin a shade paler than usual and her breathing heavy. Her green eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling, as if she wasn’t quite processing what she saw, but they were open. She blinked again.

“River,” he said again, more forcefully this time. He crossed the remaining distance hurriedly, hesitantly laid a hand on hers. “River, can you hear me?”

She didn’t respond but for another blink.

“River, it’s me, I’m here, you’re okay. You’re going to be all right, River.” He was trying to be reassuring, but his voice sounded panicked. Clara walked over to him and laid a calming hand on his shoulder.

River’s eyes slid shut again, but she seemed peaceful now. Her breathing had returned to normal, and the sheen of sweat on her forehead had gone.

“She’s sleeping,” he said quietly.

“Will she be all right?”

“I’m not sure. But she’s sleeping now. She can wake up. She’s not in a coma anymore.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Clara prompted, and he nodded. She watched him for a moment more before turning towards the door.

“I’ll see you later,” she said quietly, not sure whether she should be happy or sad. Happy seemed like the obvious choice, didn’t it? She would never want River to die. She was a better person than that. But a piece of her was sad, because he had never looked at Clara the way he looked at River. Now he never would.

While she had lain, sleeping, it had seemed possible for her not to exist. The Doctor’s wife. It was surreal, almost too surreal to be true. Up until now Clara had been able to flirt with him, to hold his hand like he was hers. He never had been, she knew now. All the while there had been his wife, a ghost but living still. And now she was flesh and blood. Now she was alive and no amount of pretending otherwise could convince Clara that things would ever be the same between her and the Doctor.

She left without saying anything more, half wishing he’d ask her to stay as she stepped into the hall and headed back to her room aboard the TARDIS. But he didn’t look up, all his attention focused on his beloved wife.

***

When she woke up in the morning—or, rather, the closest thing there was to morning in the TARDIS—Clara went to the kitchen and made eggs for two. Scrambled eggs were one thing, at least, that she could cook, she thought wryly. She _would_ learn to make a decent soufflé one day, though, she promised herself.

He was still in the same position as she’d left him, hand on River’s, watching over her as she slept. One would think only seconds had passed since she’d left the room. She doubted he’d slept; he was always bragging about his superior Time Lord physiology, how he didn’t need to sleep nearly as much as a human. All the same, though, he did need to rest sometime.

“Doctor?” She said it quietly, so as not to startle him.

He looked up. “Clara. What is it?”

“I’ve brought you some breakfast.”

He waved her away. “Not hungry.”

“You should eat anyway. And get some sleep, too. I know, I know,” she added before he could get a word out, “superior Time Lord physiology. But, Doctor, starving yourself isn’t going to do her any good.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted.

“You need to go do something,” Clara told him. “Eat your breakfast, take a shower or something. It doesn’t have to be for long—seriously, ten minutes is all I’m asking. Nothing’s going to change in ten minutes, and I’ll be there the whole time. Trust me, it’ll be good for you.”

“What if she wakes up?” he asked, worry in his voice. “I need to be there when she wakes up, Clara—you don’t understand, she thinks I left her.”

“Yes, well, you _did_ leave her,” she pointed out.

“And I’m never going to leave her again,” the Doctor said firmly, and she tried to deny the ache in her heart at his words. “Not if I can help it.”

“Out. Now,” she told him, shooing him towards the door. He reluctantly stepped out and into the hall.

“Ten minutes,” Clara ordered. “Ten full minutes, not a second sooner. I’m timing you.”

“Do I _have_ to?” He sighed, pouted like a child, but she was immune to those puppy eyes.

“Yes. Now _go_. The sooner you leave, the sooner you can get back.”

“Fine,” he conceded at last. She watched him grab his plate and walk out of sight before taking a seat in the chair to begin her vigil.

***

He was back exactly ten minutes later, right on the dot. She’d hoped he’d get distracted, take some time away from his wife’s sickbed, but it seemed he had only one thing on his mind right now.

“Back so soon?” Clara asked innocently as he walked in.

“You said ten minutes, I took ten minutes,” he countered. “You can go do whatever it is you do all day now. I can watch her.”

But she wasn’t about to give up. “You know, Doctor, I think I know just the thing. How about a game?”

“No, no, I’m sure you have better things to be doing. Now off you pop.”

“Nothing better to be doing,” she replied. “Come on, Doctor. Go Fish or Sorry?”

“But Clara,” he began, but she cut him off.

“No buts, Doctor. Go Fish or Sorry?”

“Go Fish.”

She smirked and went to find a deck of cards.

***

He was a terrible cheater. He tried to look at her cards, “accidentally” flipped over multiple cards at once, and even stuffed cards up his sleeve (he did a poor job of it, which was how she knew he’d been cheating). By the end of the game, she couldn’t restrain her laughter.

“You just can’t stand to lose, can you?” she giggled when he asked her what was so funny.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied innocently.

“You’re a rubbish cheater,” Clara told him.

His mouth quirked up at the corners, but he fervently denied it. She laughed some more, looked at her watch and discovered it was time for lunch—by her time, anyway.

“I’m going to make some sandwiches, okay? I’ll be back soon,” she told him, putting all the cards into a neat pile.

“All right,” he replied, and for the first time since they’d been to Trenzalore he looked truly happy, as if he’d forgotten the reason for his sorrows for a moment, at least.

He returned to his chair by River’s bed the moment she left the room, looking her over with worried eyes. Nothing seemed to have changed; her eyes remained closed, but her breathing was steady and some of the color had returned to her cheeks.

He could hear Clara in the kitchen, which the TARDIS had conveniently moved closer to him. He wondered if that was her way of telling him he needed to eat more; ever since he’d found River in the Library, his appetite had suffered. Grief and worry did that to a person.

“Hey, Clara, can you bring the fish fingers and custard?” he called, realizing he hadn’t had his favorite snack in much too long. He hadn’t felt like eating it. Now, though, there was some hope. He had something to live for again.

He heard her laugh. She’d never understood his strange taste in food.

“Yeah, I’ll bring them,” she called back.

“Thanks,” he replied, settled back into his seat. He tucked a strand of curly hair back into his place, looked down as River’s eyes fluttered open, meeting his.

“Doctor?” her voice was hoarse and faint.

“River,” he breathed, hardly daring to believe this was for real. She squeezed his hand, her lips curving upwards in a smile. He said it again, louder this time.

“River!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to torture you like this, guys... but not too sorry, haha! It is my job to leave you in suspense, after all. More to come on Sunday, but I'm afraid I won't be able to post the usual Wednesday chapter next week. I'm off to go camping, and there is an obvious lack of internet connection associated with that, so you'll just have to wait until the next Sunday.  
> Thanks for reading! I appreciate it. :)  
> -Ryann


	14. Chapter 14

“You’re alive,” he whispered, and she smiled, almost beamed at him. “But that’s impossible.”

“It’s called marriage, honey.”

“I…” he didn’t know what to say, now that the moment had finally arrived. “I mean, um, River—well, it’s… I wanted to—”

“Oh, shut up,” she told him tenderly, hoisting herself into an upright position. Surprisingly, nothing hurt but her head—she supposed he’d used his regeneration energy again, sentimental idiot.

He crashed his lips to hers and she sighed into his mouth, brought a hand up to the back of his head to pull him closer. It had been too long since she’d felt his lips on hers, since she’d been close enough to see the little flecks of silvery-grey in his eyes.

They didn’t break away to breathe, choosing instead to let their respiratory bypasses kick in. When at last they moved apart, she took a second to take him in, a sweet ache filling her chest just at being with him after so long.

“I’ve missed you,” he said finally.

She didn’t intend her next words to be so harsh, but she was done with the hiding. “Then why didn’t you visit me?”

“River, I’m sorry, I—”

“It would have hurt too much,” she said flatly, trying to restrain herself. Part of her knew that they should wait to talk about this, not get caught up in the heat of the moment, but the other part was devastated by what he’d done to her. “I know. Did you ever even consider how much it hurt me that you never came back? To learn that you never even told her about me?”

“I know, I’m sorry, I just…”

She should wait, do this later. She tried to control herself, to just breathe. She was tired and probably more than a bit hormonal, and deep down she knew this wasn’t the right time to have this discussion. She tried to remember that this was the man she loved, the man she would do anything to get back to. But she was done with his excuses. She couldn’t do this anymore.

“You just _what_?” she spat, angry now. “What’s your excuse this time? You _forgot_? I’m your wife, Doctor. I _loved_ you. I died for you, and you just forgot about me?”

“You were dead,” he said helplessly, realizing they were the wrong words almost immediately after he said them.

“Do I look dead to you?”

“No,” he said meekly.

“Even while I was in the database, I was alive, Doctor. I could think. I could feel. And you left me alone.” Her voice shook, angry and betrayed. “I believed in you until the end. I sacrificed myself so we could have those times together, so that you could live and save others. And you went on without a care in the world.”

“No, River, it wasn’t like that!” He tried to protest, but she was beyond reason.

“I thought I meant something to you.” She sounded furious and heartbroken all at the same time. “After everything we went through together, I just… I don’t know. I thought, after all that, that you loved me.”

She paused, half-expecting, even now, for him to prove her wrong, to kiss her, to say it after everything. All this time, and he’d never said it. Three little words that would have meant the world, because all this time she’d never been sure of his love for her. But he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak or find the words to say what he needed to. Those three words hung in the air between them, blooming and dying with the kisses and the silence.

“I should have known better,” she said finally, not sure if she was angry or sad or just hollow.

“Is something wro—” Clara stopped short, seeing River. “You’re awake.”

“Profound observation,” River muttered, and then addressed the girl—woman, really, but to River she’d always be a girl. “Yes, I’m awake. Thank you for your hospitality, both of you. I’ll be leaving now.”

She retrieved her vortex manipulator and gun from where they had lain, abandoned, on the countertop. When she turned around to face him once more, he could see the fire burning in her eyes, the anger and the tears about to overflow.

“Don’t wait up,” she said, a cruel reminder of what he’d said to her on Trenzalore.

The Doctor merely sat, frozen, and watched her go.

“What happened?” Clara asked, but he didn’t respond, so she asked again, more insistently this time.

“I left her.” His voice was dull and emotionless. “I left her, and I finally got what was coming to me.”

“What are you doing sitting there, then?” Clara asked. “Go after her.”

***

She walked fast to the console room, needing to get away. The TARDIS gave a concerned hum as she opened the doors and stepped out, but she let River go without further protest. Fortunately for her, they were still outside of Clara’s house instead of in the middle of the time vortex. Stepping out into _that_ wouldn’t have ended well for her.

As soon as she was out of sight of the TARDIS, she ran. She didn’t care where she was going; her only thought was to get as far away as possible. She had her vortex manipulator; she could go anywhere she wanted. Maybe she’d go back to Luna, to her house and her job as a professor at the university there. But she knew she had to wait a while before she went back; it was the first place he’d check, if he had any brains at all. No, right now she just had to get far enough away from the TARDIS that he wouldn’t be able to track her, use the vortex manipulator to take her someplace far away where she could lay low until things had settled down. He’d give up soon, anyway. The Doctor had no patience, and besides, he didn’t care enough to spend a long time tracking her down. She knew that now.

She tried to hold back the tears. To cry over him was to admit he had meant something to her, that he still meant something to her. Her vision blurred but she ran on nonetheless, pretending that if she only ran fast enough, she could leave the sorrow behind.

How had she ever fallen in love with him? She’d been raised to hate him, to kill him, and then she’d taken one look at his face and “ _You said he was funny. You never said he was hot.”_

_“Mels!” Her father—Rory—gasps._

_“What are you doing here?” Amy demands._

_She smirks. “Following you. What do you think?”_

_“Er, where did you get the car?” Of course, that’s the first thing Rory would worry about. She hears police sirens in the background and wonders why he’s even asking. Given her history of these sorts of incidents, the answer seems obvious._

_“It’s mine,” she says, then feels the need to qualify the statement. “Ish.”_

_“Oh, Mels, not again.” They’ve always acted like her parents, even though they never knew she was their daughter._

_“You can't keep doing this. You're going to end up in prison,” Rory adds._

_“Sorry. Hello,” the Doctor says, and she looks over at him again. “Doctor not following this. Doctor very lost. You never said I was hot?”_

_Oh, and_ that’s _what he’s concerned about. Well, if he must know, he rather is. But she focuses back on the task at hand. This is the man she’s been raised to kill, hot or not._

_“Is that the phone box?” she asks. “The bigger on the inside phone box? Oh, time travel. That's just brilliant. Yeah, I've heard a lot about you. I'm their best mate.”_

_“Then why don't I know you? I danced with everyone at the wedding. The women were all brilliant. The men were a bit shy,” he says, and she can almost picture it._

_“I don't do weddings,” she says matter-of-factly. No, she’d rather steal a car or break into the mayor’s house. Honestly, the guy is a jerk. He totally deserved it. The sirens get closer, and she realizes she needs to get out of there quick._

_“And that's me out of time,” she says, pulling out a gun and pointing it at the Doctor. Oh, yes, killing him is going to be easier than she thought, at this rate. But she wants an adventure first._

_“Mels!” That’s Amy._

_“For God's sake!” And right on cue, Rory._

_“What are you doing?” Amy demands._

_That should be obvious, what with the sirens drawing nearer with every second and the helicopter coming. “I need out of here, now.”_

_“Anywhere in particular?” the Doctor asks, and she grins._

_“Well, let's see. You've got a time machine, I've got a gun. What the hell? Let's kill Hitler!”_

She’d been different then, young and naïve. He’d been a mystery, a legend, and, well, yeah, there was the matter of him being hot, too. She’d tried to remind herself he was the villain, but somehow she couldn’t believe it. He was a good man, clever and kind and completely irresistible. Like she’d told Madame Kovarian, who else was she supposed to fall in love with?

It was hard, loving him. She never knew what to expect. Her firsts were his lasts, her endings his beginnings. Some days, missing him, she didn’t know if it was worth it. But then he’d show up and sweep her off her feet, take her to a fancy dinner in a far-off galaxy and kiss her under the light of a thousand stars, and she’d change her mind again. He’d made her who she was. He’d made her River Song, and for the longest time she didn’t know how to exist without him.

But she was older now, wiser. She’d had her hearts broken because of her love for him, and she wasn’t about to let it happen again. He could follow her across the universe if he wished, but nothing he said could convince her to fall back into his arms. She may have loved him once upon a time, but those times were long past now.

It was over, she told herself, even as her tears said otherwise.

***

He did as Clara said, left the TARDIS to go after her, but by the time he got outside, she was nowhere in sight. He had a feeling the TARDIS had made the route to the console room longer for him, which wasn’t a good sign. She was very protective of River, who was probably her favorite person in the entire universe. Even the Doctor always came second to River Song. If the TARDIS was hiding her from him, things weren’t looking good. But eventually he reached the doors and walked outside.

He was struck by just how _normal_ everything looked, as if nothing had happened at all. It should be raining, he thought. The sky should reflect his mood. Because she was gone, out of his reach. He called her name without any hope that she’d answer, walked to the end of the street and peered both ways. But River had disappeared, and he knew that if she didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t find her again until she chose to reveal herself to him, which wasn’t likely after what had happened.

He decided that it was best to wait for her somewhere she’d be likely to return to; he would have tried tracking the signal from her vortex manipulator, but knowing her she’d get somewhere far away before using it. No, the best bet was to wait her out. With a heavy sigh, he turned around and walked back to the TARDIS.

***

Some time later, she stopped, found an out of the way alley where she wouldn’t be disturbed. She was sufficiently far from the TARDIS that her signal couldn’t be traced; now it was time to leave this place.

Where was the best place to hide? She needed to go somewhere he’d never think of looking. She could just set her coordinates to a random planet and time and hope for the best, but she didn’t want to end up somewhere dangerous or, even worse, cross her own time stream.

It came to her suddenly, the one place he’d never find her. He wouldn’t want to go there, and honestly she would have preferred to avoid it as well, but it was a perfect hiding place.

The Library.

She set her coordinates for a few weeks after she’d gotten out of the Library computer, trusting that the Doctor would have picked her up soon after she’d gotten out—after all, many words described the Doctor, but patient was not one of them. She adjusted her earrings—bio-dampers to hide her double heartbeat—and activated the vortex manipulator. With a crackle and a flash of light, she was gone.

She arrived in a broom closet, luckily for her. It was somewhere no one would think of looking, and she didn’t want to attract attention. Stepping out, she surveyed the scene in front of her. Endless bookshelves rose high above her, people bustling to and fro on their various missions. The place was alive now, thanks to her. She’d saved the Library.

Turning the corner, she ran into a young woman and promptly knocked her to the floor, scattering the contents of her clipboard.

“I’m so sorry,” she told the woman, who stared at her for so long that River was prompted to ask, “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine!” the woman yelped, getting to her feet. “No, sorry, I’m fine, really. It’s just… why are you here?”

River frowned. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”

“Quite sure.” She seemed all right, but she was obviously confused. “I’m sorry, I just thought I knew you for a moment.”

“I would say I’ve got one of those faces, but, well…” River gave a wry smile and a laugh, hoping it didn’t seem as fake as it felt, and gestured to her hair. “Rather recognizable, I’m afraid.”

The woman grinned. “I’m sorry. Don’t know why I thought you were her; I mean, you look a bit similar, I suppose, but not very.”

She got to her feet. “I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Jenna.”

“Ri—” She caught herself just in time. Everyone thought she was dead; it wouldn’t do to introduce herself as River Song.

“Amelia Williams,” she said instead, extending her hand. “You can call me Lia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, I leave you all until next Sunday. I wish I could update on Wednesday, but I definitely won't have any internet connection, so I'm sorry about that. Hope you all have a great week and that you enjoyed the chapter!  
> -Ryann


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tad early, I know, but my schedule has been all messed up due to vacations. I thought I should post this chapter now to make sure I ended up getting it posted at all. Enjoy!

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Williams,” Jenna said, smiling, as she shook River’s hand. “What brings you to the Library?”

_Oh, just the usual: hiding from my husband who until recently thought I’d died here over a thousand years ago. All in a day’s work._

“Oh, you know. Books,” she answered vaguely, trying her best at a smile. “And please, call me Lia,” she added, inwardly wondering a little at her choice of name. It had slipped out before she could really think of a better thing to say; she supposed her mother had been on her mind as of late. She’d been missing Amy, wishing she was there; Amy always knew what to do. She had been a mother to River even when she hadn’t known River was her daughter, and for that River had always been grateful. There was no turning back now; Amelia Williams she was to be. “It’s Miss Williams, actually, and I’ve never cared much for formalities anyway.”

“Oh, sorry,” the young woman said, “I just assumed…”

“Assumed what?” River inquired.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I, um, thought I saw a wedding band,” Jenna said dismissively. “I guess I was mistaken. So, Lia, what do you like to read?”

She’d only ever worn a wedding band in the dream, much as she wished they could do that in real life. But it simply hadn’t been possible, what with their timelines being out of sync. Spoilers. It didn’t matter anymore, though, she thought bitterly. He’d never loved her anyway.

“History,” she said. “Love a good romance, too.” She laughed. “Strange combination, I know, but to each their own.”

“Yes, indeed. Anything I can help you with? I work here,” Jenna explained.

“Not that I know of.” River paused. “Actually, yes, there is something. You’ve got lodgings on the planet, correct?”

Jenna nodded.

“Well, I’m looking for a place to stay for a while. Where should I go to find out about that?”

“Help desk,” Jenna told her, pointing.

“Thank you,” River said with a smile.

“Of course. It’s a pleasure to help. So I’ll see you around then?” Jenna asked.

“I suppose so. Where do you work?”

“Hospital,” Jenna said, not bothering to elaborate further. River wondered why.

“Ah. Are you a doctor?”

“No, not exactly.” There was a nervousness to her voice that made River glance over her one more time.

She appeared to be a normal young woman: light brown hair, just a bit curly, delicate features and intelligent eyes that were somewhere between blue and green. A light smattering of freckles dusted her cheeks. Her face vaguely reminded River of someone, though she couldn’t quite remember who. She was dressed relatively casually, a neat blouse and skirt outfit, and she carried a clipboard in one hand. No, she certainly hadn’t met Jenna before. But something about the girl struck her as familiar…

“Yes, well, maybe I’ll see you later.” She smiled. “It was nice meeting you, Miss… I don’t believe you told me your last name.”

“Lewis,” the girl said quickly. “Jenna Lewis. But it doesn’t matter. Just call me Jenna.”

“Jenna, then. It was good to meet you.” River smiled, then turned away and began walking towards the help desk.

***

Her mother had always told her that patience was a virtue, but Clara had never believed it until that moment. The Doctor, always used to travelling ahead and skipping the “boring bits,” as he called them, was _not_ patient. In fact, he was pretty much exactly the opposite of patient.

They’d only been there for about ten minutes before he’d gotten up and started pacing. She’d persuaded him to sit back down, but that had only lasted three more minutes—she’d timed him, just for fun—before he was up and about again. She was really beginning to realize the true value of patience now.

She had to admit it, waiting for River Song to return wasn’t exactly exciting. Clara and the Doctor were sitting—or had been sitting, in the Doctor’s case—on the couch in River’s house, waiting for her to get back as the Doctor insisted she eventually would. It was a pretty house, situated on a hill. It was large but not overly so and had a comforting, homey feel. Pictures hung on the walls, showing a smiling River and two people Clara didn’t recognize—a long-legged ginger woman and a man with a big nose. They seemed to be in nearly every picture: laughing with River as they made silly faces for a photo booth, celebrating her birthday with paper hats, hugging her and looking proud of her graduation cap and gown. They appeared to be about the Doctor’s age—or the age he appeared, at any rate. Clara wondered who they were. University friends of River’s, perhaps? She looked to be a bit older than them; then again, River appeared to have stayed the same age throughout most of the pictures. There was something strange about the Doctor’s wife.

The other pictures showed River and the Doctor in a variety of places—ice skating on a frozen river, soaking wet under an umbrella, all dressed up and out dancing. In them, River always looked full to bursting with happiness, and the Doctor’s love for her was apparent in his expression. She tried not to picture her own face in the frames instead of River’s, tried not to imagine how life would have been different if he hadn’t been married when she’d met him.

A photo album sat on the table, so Clara reached out and opened it to the first page. Still more pictures with those two friends and the Doctor. They seemed to have done a lot of travelling together. One picture showed the four of them at a carnival, another of River and the Doctor with—was that Stevie Wonder? It wouldn’t surprise her, honestly. She took the picture out and flipped it over, but it wasn’t labelled.

There were photos of River on what were clearly archaeological digs; in what little she’d heard of River before all this, the Doctor had explained he’d known a Professor Song, a doctor of archaeology. There she was, posing in front of dusty pits and old ruins, smiling brightly with a team of her university students surrounding her. Next to some of the pictures were postcards from past students, now leading digs of their own, and letters from students who’d graduated. She’d been a beloved professor, a brilliant archaeologist, and, apparently, a famed flirt.

There were still more pictures, these ones of three children, a red-headed little girl, a scrawny little boy, and another girl with a sassy smirk that reminded her of River Song, though the girl in the picture couldn’t possibly have been her. The picture was labelled on the back, in flowery cursive. She assumed the mother of one of the children in the picture had written it.

_Amelia, Rory, and Mels, September 1997,_ it read.

She wondered if those two—the little red-head and the boy with the big nose—were the couple present in many of the other pictures. But if so, what had happened to the other girl?

“Doctor?” she called. He’d made his way into the kitchen, and promptly came back into the living room at her call with a plate of Jammie Dodgers balanced precariously in one hand.

“Would you care for a Jammie Dodger?”

“I think I’m all right for the moment,” she said with an amused grin. He was always eating something or another; Jammie Dodgers and fish fingers with custard were his particular favorites. “I was wondering if you could tell me who these people were.”

The Doctor came over and peered over her shoulder at the familiar portraits.

“Ah, yes. This one’s from her days in Leadworth. Amy Pond—she went by Amelia then—Rory Williams, and her. Mels Zucker, I believe that’s what she called herself. Short for Melody.”

“How did they know River?”

“It’s a long story,” he said.

“We’ve got time,” she pointed out. “And it might distract you for a while. Come on, sit down.”

“All right,” he agreed, taking a seat beside her. “Would you believe me if I told you that was River?”

He pointed to the little girl in the middle—Mels, he had called her. Clara frowned; River and Mels looked vastly different. There was no way they were the same person.

“That’s not possible.”

“You remember how I told you about regeneration?” the Doctor asked, and Clara nodded. “Well, River is like me—she regenerates. Or she did, anyway, before Hitler shot her and she tried to kill me.”

Tried to kill him? Well, honestly, she couldn’t blame River. There were times when she wanted to throttle the Doctor, too. But she never would have actually done it. Wasn’t it a bit concerning that the Doctor’s wife had tried to murder him? What kind of woman _was_ River Song? And what did _Hitler_ have to do with all this?

“But we’ll get to that later,” he added hastily, seeing Clara’s expression. “Anyway, these are her parents, Amy and Rory.”

“But—how? I mean, they’re younger than her. Well, not in this picture, but later, anyway.”

“Yes, well, like I said, she’s not completely human. Part human—that’s from her parents—and part Time Lord. She was, erm…” He flushed. “Well, suffice it to say that Amy and Rory had their wedding night aboard the TARDIS, and that was the result.”

Clara laughed a little at his expression, but refrained from teasing him. “Go on, Doctor.”

“Right. Yes, well, she was taken. Amy, that is. She was taken by a religious order known as the Silence and replaced with a doppelganger. When she gave birth to River—Melody then, Amy named her Melody Pond—they took the baby to raise her. I tried to rescue them both, but it was too late.” He paused, and she could tell he felt guilty about that, too. “By the time I got there, they’d taken the baby. They raised her to kill me. A perfect weapon: part Time Lord, part human, all psychopath. Or so they thought. But she escaped, somehow got away and managed to regenerate into her second form—that’s Mels, the one you see there. She found her way to Leadworth somehow, found her parents. She grew up alongside them and they never even knew.”

He chuckled. “Amy once told me she’d named her daughter after her childhood friend. Turns out she’d named her daughter after her daughter.”

“What about Hitler?” Clara asked.

“Getting there, be patient.”

“Oh, _you’re_ one to talk about patient,” she muttered.

“Oi!”

She gave him a pointedly skeptical look. “Go on. You were going to tell me about Hitler?”

“Yes, Hitler. Well, a few months later, I landed the TARDIS in a cornfield—you should’ve seen the crop circle Amy and Rory made, it was brilliant—and Mels showed up in a stolen car with the police right behind her. Well, she pulled a gun on me, insisted I take her with me. And then she _shot my TARDIS._ We wound up in Berlin, right in Hitler’s office.”

The Doctor grimaced. “Actually, he was about to be killed by a robot called the Teselecta. We saved his life.”

“You _what_?”

“Yeah, I know.” He made a face. “So anyway, we landed in Hitler’s office as the Teselecta was about to kill him, and then Hitler tried to shoot it, so we put him in the cupboard.”

“You put Hitler in a _cupboard_?” Clara asked, disbelieving. The Doctor nodded.

“Yep. So that was when we realized he’d shot Mels,” he told her, remembering the way _she bends over as if she’s been punched in the stomach, breathing heavily._

_“Mels?” Amy asks, concerned._

_“Hitler,” she says tightly._

_“What about him?” the Doctor asks._

_“Lousy shot,” she says, grimacing, and then collapses. She’s clutching her side and he realizes what has happened._

_“Mels! Mels!” Amy cries frantically._

_“Rory!” the Doctor shouts._

_“No, no, no, no! I've got to stop the bleeding.”_

_“How bad is it?” Amy demands. “Rory, what can we do?”_

_“Just keep her conscious,” Rory tells her, and then turns back to Mels. “Stay with us, Mels.”_

_“Hey, look at me,” the Doctor says, trying to reassure her. This is, after all, his fault. If he’d just left her back in the cornfield she’d have been all right. Though she_ had _insisted on coming, he supposes. “Just hold on.”_

_“I used to dream about you,” she says faintly. “All those stories Amy used to tell me.”_

_“What stories? Tell me what stories,” he says urgently. It’s important she keep talking, keep breathing. “Vampires in Venice. That's a belter.”_

_“When I was little, I was going to marry you,” Mels says, managing to smirk despite the situation._

_“Good idea, let's get married,” he says, not really knowing what he’s saying. He can’t lose this girl, not like this. “You stay alive and I'll marry you, deal? Deal?”_

_“Shouldn't you ask my parents’ permission?” This seems a bit odd, coming from her. In the short time he’s known her, she’s seemed like the sort of girl to run off and elope without a care for who she was leaving behind._

_“As soon as you're well, I'll get on the phone,” he reassures her, knowing even as he says it that it’s too late._

_“Might as well do it now, since they're both right here.” She grins, waits for them to realize it. “Penny in the air. Penny drops.”_

_Her body glows with golden light, but that’s impossible. That’s regeneration energy, but she’s human, isn’t she? He’d be able to tell. There are no Time Lords left, no one able to do that except himself and…_

_The child of the TARDIS._

They’re both right here.

_The child of the Ponds._

_His brain puts together the puzzle and suddenly he knows who she is._

_“What the hell's going on?” Rory cries._

_“Back! Back! Back! Get back!” the Doctor shouts._

_“Last time I did this, I ended up a toddler in the middle of New York,” Mels says._

_“Okay, Doctor, explain what is happening, please,” Amy says. He can tell she’s trying to be calm, but it’s not working too well._

_“Mels. Short for?” He’s almost certain he already knows, but he asks just to confirm._

_“Melody,” Mels answers._

_“Yeah. I named my daughter after her,” Amy explains._

_“You named your daughter after your daughter,” the Doctor says._

_“It took me years to find you two. I'm so glad I did,” Mels—Melody Pond—says. “And you see? It all worked out in the end, didn't it? You got to raise me after all.”_

_“You're Melody?” Amy asks._

_“But if she's Melody, that means that she's also—”_

_“Shut up, Dad. I'm focusing on a dress size,” she says tightly, the energy growing brighter and brighter around her until suddenly, it’s not Mels who stands in front of them._

_It’s River Song._

_She gasps a bit, smiles. “Right, let's see, then.” He would smile if he weren’t so shocked; he knows what she’s going through. It’s exciting and scary, regeneration. She takes a look up and down, grins._

_“Ooh, it's all going on down there, isn't it?” She runs her hands through that hair he so loves. “The hair! Oh, the hair. It just doesn't stop, does it? Look at that. Everything changes. Oh, but I love it. I love it! I'm all sort of mature.”_

_She strikes a pose for them, foot up on one of the chairs._

_“Hello, Benjamin.” She draws out the greeting saucily, smirking at them all._

_“Who's Benjamin?” the Doctor asks, but no one listens._

_“The teeth. The teeth, the teeth! Oh, look at them.” She’s running towards him, pinning him up against Hitler’s desk in a rather suggestive position. He’s close enough to kiss her, if he wanted to—but that’s not what he should be thinking about._

_“Watch out that bow tie,” she says, and then she’s gone again. “Excuse me, you lot. I need to weigh myself.”_

_She runs off and into another room, leaving a rather shocked trio behind._

_“That's Melody,” Amy says._

_“That's River Song,” Rory mutters._

_She pokes her head around the corner. “Who's River Song?”_

_“Spoilers,” the Doctor says weakly._

_“Spoilers? What's spoilers?” she asks, and it’s almost funny. She’s always been the one to say that to him. But she’s not really interested in hearing the answer; she darts back out of sight again. “Hang on, just something I have to check.”_

_“Is anybody else finding today just a bit difficult?” Rory asks, looking a bit worse for the wear. “I'm getting a sort of banging in my head.”_

_Amy frowns. “Yeah, I think that's Hitler in the cupboard.”_

_He groans. “That's not helping.”_

_“This isn't the River Song we know yet,” the Doctor explains. It’s strange, being the one to know everything. She’s always been the one with the diary and the spoilers and the foreknowledge, and now it’s his turn. He’s not sure whether to feel relieved or sad at the realization. “This is her right at the start. Doesn't even know her own name.”_

_“Oh, that's magnificent!” he hears, and then she appears around the doorframe again._

_“I'm going to wear_ lots _of jodhpurs.”_

“…wow,” Clara said when he was finished. “She’s quite, um, unusual.”

“Impossible,” he said with a fond smile, seeming to forget for a moment that the “impossible” woman in question had run off to who knew where trying to get away from him. Honestly, Clara really wasn’t sure she could blame her. It wasn’t easy, loving the Doctor, never knowing if one meeting would be your last, never knowing if he’d come back for you.

And Clara wasn’t even a time traveller. She couldn’t begin to imagine how River had felt, the pain of being hopelessly in love without knowing if her affection would ever be returned. They had a lot in common, Clara and the Doctor’s wife. Clara understood why she’d left.

“You really think she’ll come back here?” she asked doubtfully, at once wishing she wouldn’t and feeling guilty for this realization.

He nodded. “Given enough time. We’ve just got to be patient.”

“Good luck with that,” Clara told him, and they lapsed into silence again.


	16. Chapter 16

She ached to go home. It had been too long—over a thousand years, though it hadn’t seemed that long—and she wanted nothing more than to envelop herself in the familiar comfort of her own house, her own bed. Unfortunately, she knew she couldn’t risk going back there unless she arrived several years into the future. And if she wanted to pick her career back up where it had left off, she would have to go back closer to her own time period, which wasn’t a good idea.

So she sighed and let herself into the apartment—her new home, the place where she’d be spending a fair bit of time before she could go home. She would wait it out here, wait until she had calmed down enough to think rationally. Normally she’d have just set the date for a few weeks after she’d left and simply used her vortex manipulator to get home, but this time was a little trickier. She had no idea how long he’d wait for her, and she couldn’t chance arriving while he was still there. She knew he wouldn’t let her get away again. She’d just have to watch and wait for any news, find some way to access her home cameras via the Library database.

The flat was small and sparsely furnished, one corner taken over by the kitchen, the bed pressed up against the far wall under the window. A door to the left led into a small bathroom. She opened the curtains, let the dying light flood in. The sunset was red, shining off the glass walls and polished stones of a planet filled with books. It was just as lovely and as horrible as it had been 1305 years ago, when she’d first laid eyes on it.

She paced back and forth, the red-gold light glinting off her curls, illuminating her face. She shouldn’t feel so sad. She wasn’t giving anything up that she hadn’t already lost.

Even if he’d ever loved her, he’d left. A millennium and a time machine, and still he didn’t return for her. The betrayal stung more than she’d have liked to admit. Again she berated herself for being so foolish, questioned how she could have ever fallen for him. Oh, but she knew. That man was like a drug to her; she had every right to hate him after everything he’d put her through, but here, now, far away from him, all she wanted was to get back.

***

 “I’m booored,” he whined, and honestly Clara agreed with him. She’d long since run out of family photo albums to look at, and there really wasn’t much else to do.

“Do you really think this is the best way to find her?” she asked doubtfully. “I mean, you said she used a vortex manipulator. Can’t you just… I don’t know, track the signal or something?”

The Doctor sighed. “Yes, well, River has always been too clever for her own good. I checked for a signal before we came here, but the TARDIS only has so far of a range. River knew that; she got out of range before activating the manipulator.”

“Well, where would she have gone?”

“Here, I thought.” He shrugged, raised his hands helplessly.

“Clearly she’s not here,” Clara said, “so where else could she have gone?”

“I don’t know!”

“Doctor, she’s your _wife_. Think about it for a moment. You know her better than anyone; surely you can guess.”

“That’s the thing,” he said miserably. “I _don’t_ know her that well. There were so many things she never told anyone, that she hid from me. Oh, yes, there were the things she needed to hide, the spoilers, but those weren’t the only things she kept from me. She let me believe she was impossible, that she could do absolutely anything. ‘It’s called marriage, honey.’ That’s what she said, and, Clara, I believed her even after that. I let her convince me to leave her after Manhattan. I somehow thought she’d understand why I couldn’t go back to the Library, why I couldn’t talk to her. But I was wrong. River is strong, but she’s not invincible. She’s very, very human, and I failed to understand that when it mattered.”

“You understand now,” she said, trying to look on the bright side. “That must count for something.”

He shook his head. “It’s too late. She’s gone, Clara. I lost her once, and now I’ve lost her again.”

***

“Hey!”

She’d been hoping no one would find here, tucked in among the dusty stacks of archaeology textbooks, but apparently that was too much to ask. Reluctantly she looked up, recognizing the woman she’d bumped into before—Jenna.

“Hello,” River greeted her, smiling. “What brings you here?”

“Well, I work here,” Jenna said, obviously wondering what sort of question that was.

River chuckled. “No, that’s not what I meant. I meant, why are you back here in these dusty old archaeology books when I’m sure there are more fascinating places for a young lady like you to be?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Jenna pointed out.

“Oh, I’ve always loved history,” River responded airily. “Archaeology especially. And I’m hardly young anymore, anyway. What’s your excuse?”

In reality, she’d been doing a bit of investigating, wondering if it was even possible for her to go home. If it was here, written down, she knew she wouldn’t be able to return. If River Song died in the Library and was never seen again, she knew she couldn’t disrupt the timelines. But there was no reason for Jenna to know that.

“Looking for you, actually,” Jenna replied, causing River to raise an eyebrow.

“Really? Whatever for?”

“Well, I thought you could do with some company,” the young woman explained. “Seeing as you’re all alone here.”

“What makes you think that?”

Jenna shrugged, obviously caught off guard. “I don’t know, there wasn’t anyone with you the first time I saw you. I just assumed you’d come here alone.”

“You’d be right,” River admitted. “But it’s fine. I’m certainly used to it at this point,” she added, a slight bitterness to her tone.

“Well, you don’t have to be alone tonight. Come on, we’ll go out. Have some fun,” Jenna suggested, giving her a hesitant smile.

Why not? Maybe it would help her forget. She could do with some forgetting, just for one night. In the morning light her troubles would be back to haunt her, to swoop in and stifle her, but while the night lasted she could be free.

“Why not?” she repeated, this time aloud, returning the girl’s smile. “I think it will do me some good.”

***

She was easy to talk to, Jenna was. The drinks loosened River’s tongue and the young woman was such an attentive audience that she let slip more than she would have liked to had she been fully aware of her surroundings. Oh, it was nothing that would give her away, but if anyone were to look any closer the damage would be done.

“I thought I was in love, once,” she told Jenna. It was already past midnight and she only half knew what she was saying.

The girl nodded, looking encouraging, and it all just slipped out.

“I was born to be an assassin,” she found herself saying. “I was born to kill him. But I fell in love with him instead.”

She laughed, tipped back the rest of her drink. “Isn’t that the craziest thing you’ve ever heard? But it’s true. They raised me to kill him, but _you just can't get the psychopaths these days._

_“Love what you've done with the pyramids,” he remarks to her, and at least he’s speaking to her. Oh, she knows very well what she’s done, knows he has every right to be angry with her. “How did you score all this?”_

_“Hallucinogenic lipstick,” she replies with a little smirk. Oh, yes, you could bet he was regretting letting her buy it now. He’d taken her to a little marketplace, let her pick something out. She’d definitely made good use of it. “Works wonders on President Kennedy. And Cleopatra was a real pushover.”_

_“I always thought so,” he says, and she feels a little pang of jealousy. She’s in love with him, and though she knows she’s not the first one to lose her hearts to the Doctor, she can’t help but feel jealous of the others._

_“She mentioned you,” she says lightly._

_“What did she say?” Of course he’s curious._

_“Put down that gun,” she replies._

_“Did you?” he asks her._

_“Eventually,” she tells him._

_“Oh, they're flirting. Do I have to watch this?” Kovarian’s muttering in the background brings her back to the issue at hand._

_“It was such a basic mistake, wasn't it, Madame Kovarian?” she asks, but it’s not really a question and they all know it. “Take a child, raise her into a perfect psychopath, introduce her to the Doctor. Who else was I going to fall in love with?”_

_She says it lightly, as if it means nothing, but her hearts are beating fast inside her chest and it’s all she can do to hold it together. It’s the first time she’s said it aloud to him, the first time she’s had the courage to._

_“It's not funny, River,” he says, and her hearts sink. Though she’s known forever that it wouldn’t happen like that—things are never so simple when it comes to the Doctor—some romantic part of her had hoped he’d say it back, that he’d kiss her or even just smile, give her any sign that he felt the same way. But instead she gets: “Reality is fatally compromised. Tell me you understand that.”_

_Oh, and she does, perfectly. She’s not a fool; she knows perfectly well what she’s doing. She’s the child of the TARDIS, after all._

_She can’t think of anything to say, so instead she deflects him. “Dinner?”_

_“I don't have the time. Nobody has the time, because as long I'm alive, time is dying. Because of you, River.” His voice is cold, and the knot in her stomach ties itself a little tighter._

_“Because I refused to kill the man I love,” she says, and there it is again. Love. That one little word, four letters, yet somehow the most potent thing in the universe._

_“Oh, you love me, do you? Oh, that's sweet of you,” he says, clearly mocking her, and she pretends he’s not breaking her hearts with every syllable. “Isn't that sweet. Come here, you.”_

_“Get him!” Amy cries as River jumps back. Luckily, the soldiers get there before he can touch her._

_“I'm not a fool, sweetie. I know what happens if we touch.”_

_He lunges towards her, grabs her arm._

_“Get off me,” she says, trying to yank her arm away from him. Her next order is to the soldiers. “Get him off me!”_

_“Doctor, no. Let go! Please Doctor, let go!” Amy yells, but he’s not listening. She knows he won’t let go, won’t give up until time is back to the way it should be. But it can’t happen that way. She can’t kill him, can’t lose him now. Voices chatter in the background but her entire world has shrunk to a tiny space, the press of his fingers against her wrist, their bruising, unrelenting grip._

_“Get him off me!” she shouts to the soldiers again, and then looks at him, tries to plead with him through the panic in her voice and the pain in her gaze. “Doctor!”_

_“I’m sorry, River,” he says, but she knows he doesn’t mean it. He’s not sorry, because he thinks he’s doing the right thing. How can he know what she feels, how this will break her if she has to go through with it? “It's the only way,” he tells her. She’s close to tears now, breath coming in sharp, panicked gasps. Why can’t this be easy? Why can’t they be normal? Why must she confess her love for him this way, with time burning all around them and the knowledge that her kiss on his lips would be the end for him? The lakeside flashes before them for a moment and she renews her efforts to yank herself out of his grasp. The soldiers manage to pull him away at last and she retreats, rubbing her wrist._

_“Cuff him,” she orders, half angry, half sad._

_“Oh, why do you always have handcuffs? It's the only way,” he tells her, but she knows all this already. “We're the opposite poles of the disruption. If we touch, we short out the differential. Time can begin again.”_

_“And I'll be by a lakeside killing you.” She can’t do it. She can’t._

_“And time won't fall apart. The clocks will tick. Reality will continue. There isn't another way,” he pleads, but she doesn’t care. Maybe she’s selfish, but she can’t let him die by her hand._

_“I didn't say there was, sweetie,” she says quietly, and then she pulls herself together. “There are so many theories about you and I, you know.”_

_And there are. She’s said to be the woman who marries him, the woman who murders him. Maybe she’ll do both. Maybe neither. But she’s certainly the woman who loves him._

_“Idle gossip,” he says._

_“Archaeology,” she counters._

_“Same thing.” He’s never approved of her profession, a frequent sore spot._

_“Am I the woman who marries you, or the woman who murders you?” She doesn’t really expect an answer, but she has to ask for the sake of her own sanity._

_“I don't want to marry you.” His words cut her, because she knows he means them._

_“I don't want to murder you,” she replies, but it’s not really what she means. Of course she doesn’t want to kill him. But in a way, those words are just her way of saying she loves him._

_In a way, it’s her way of hoping that someday, he will learn to love her, too._

“What happened?”

“Time,” she replied, because that’s what had torn them apart. They were never meant to be, River and the Doctor. He had never been hers no matter how long she wanted to stay, no matter if she promised him a day or a year, an hour or an eternity. The universe was slowly tearing him from her piece by piece, and she’d always known that there would come a day when there was nothing left.

She’d just never accepted it until now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it. The Wedding of River Song, this time from her point of view. Hope you enjoyed it!  
> So sorry for not posting this yesterday, guys! I'm still on vacation and I've been so busy that it totally slipped my mind, so I apologize for that.   
> Until Sunday.  
> -Ryann


	17. Chapter 17

“Will you be staying long?”

They were at a café, the day after. River had a massive headache, which really shouldn’t have surprised her. Jenna had somehow managed to avoid the same fate and looked infuriatingly awake.

River sighed. “I’m not sure.”

“You want to get home,” Jenna guessed.

“Of course I do.”

There was a long pause as Jenna studied her features before speaking again. “Why?”

“Why do I want to get home?”

“Why are you so sad?” Jenna asked softly, causing River’s gaze to snap up to meet hers.

“Whoever said I was sad?” she asked, wondering if she was really that terrible at hiding. It had been an emotional few days for her, it was true, but she was a better actress than this.

“Your eyes. They’re sad,” the young woman told her, and from the way she said it River wondered if she knew more than she was letting on.

“Who are you?” River asked abruptly, meeting her eyes with steely determination.

“Jenna L—” she started to say, but River cut her off.

“No, who are you really?”

“I could say the same to you, Amelia Williams.” There was a defiant gleam to the girl’s eyes, and she held River’s eyes, not looking away as most would have done under the force of River’s green gaze.

“Who I am doesn’t matter,” River said finally. “I won’t be here long, if I can help it. The long and short of it is that I don’t belong here. I don’t belong anywhere, and it really doesn’t matter what I go by or who I am. My name doesn’t mean anything to anyone. Everyone that name meant something to is long gone now.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

River didn’t say anything, prompting Jenna to speak again.

“You’re not Amelia Williams.” It wasn’t phrased as a question.

“It’s not my name, no. But the name isn’t what matters. It’s what the name means to others, and that name means more to me than you could ever know.”

“Who are you really, then?”

River paused a moment, tried to think of what to say. Who was she, really? On the surface the answer seemed obvious, but then again, it should. It was easy to give yourself a name, an appearance, even a personality. What was difficult was defining, under all of the superficiality, who you really were.

Her voice was quiet and reflective when she spoke at last.

“I can’t tell you who I am, because I don’t know. Maybe I’ve never known.”

“Maybe you do know, deep down.”

“I’m not sure I do.”

There was a long pause before either spoke again.

“I think you do,” Jenna said. “I think you’re just running away from it.”

River snorted, half amused and half bitter. “That’s my husband’s job.”

“So you’re Mrs. Williams after all.”

“I’m married, yes, but my name isn’t Williams.” She paused. “Nor is yours Jenna Lewis.”

Jenna took a deep breath. “No, it’s not.”

“Shall we start the introductions over, then?”

Jenna nodded. “I guess so.”

“Well, then. Professor River Song, archaeologist,” she said, remembering a time long ago when she’d introduced herself the very same way.

“Charlotte Jennifer Lux, future president of the Felman Lux Corporation.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Charlotte,” River said, trying not to be reminded of another girl named Charlotte, a girl she’d raised as her daughter. Jenna looked a bit like her, she supposed; the freckles, the shade of her light brown hair were reminiscent of her distant relation, but that was where the resemblance ended. Charlotte Abigail Lux would have been many generations older than Jenna, yet she would always remain young, forever living inside the database. River felt a little pang of regret for having had to leave her behind.

“Please, just call me Jenna,” the girl told her. “I’ve always gone by it. Too many Charlottes in this family. It’s a tradition.”

“Jenna, then.”

“Professor Song. That’s your real name?”

“Not exactly,” River said. “It’s not the name my parents gave me, but it _is_ my name.”

“Who gave it to you, then?” Jenna asked, curious.

In a way, it had been her parents after all. Her mother, her father, and her husband. Amelia Pond, Rory Williams, and the Doctor. They had made her who she was, given her her name.

 _That’s River Song_ , Rory had said.

 _Only River Song gets to call me that,_ the Doctor had told her.

 _Show me River Song_ , Amy had ordered. And the Teselecta had reflected her own face.

Because _she_ was River Song. And that was when she’d known she was going to fall in love with him.

_Hello, sweetie._

“It’s complicated,” she said at last.

Jenna looked curious, but she decided to let the subject drop. Instead, she asked, “Why did you come back?”

“What?” River was caught off guard. “What do you mean, come back? I’ve only been here once before, and that was over a thousand years ago. You couldn’t possibly have seen me then.”

“Oh, sorry,” Jenna apologized. “You wouldn’t remember, but they found you in the mainframe. There was a man; he said he was your husband. He came to find you, and I was the nurse in charge of making sure he didn’t get lost, and you were asleep. That’s why I recognized you yesterday—I’ve met you before. I thought you knew.”

“You’ve known this whole time?”

Jenna nodded in confirmation.

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“I wasn’t sure. I mean, you looked a bit different last time I saw you, and, well, I hadn’t expected either of you to come back here after everything…” Jenna trailed off.

“Bloody idiot,” River muttered under her breath. “Why did he even bother?”

“Why did you come back?”

“For information,” River told her, the lie slipping easily off her tongue. “It wouldn’t be safe for me to go home without knowing. Time lines are fragile things.”

“Home?” Jenna asked cautiously. “You mean… in the past?”

“How much did he tell you?” She didn’t say his name, but Jenna knew whom she was referring to.

“He showed me his TARDIS.” She tried her best to keep the excitement out of her voice, as he was clearly a sore spot for River, but it was hard. She’d always wanted to escape from her life, from the family legacy. She’d always known there was more to the universe than one tiny planet, and she’d always wanted to explore it.

“I’m sure he was very amused when you said it was bigger on the inside,” River muttered unhappily.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing.”

“So, is it true, then?”

“Is what true?”

“Is he your husband?” Jenna asked, and she really didn’t know what to say. Because was he, really? Did a wedding in a timeline that no longer existed even count? River had had her doubts over the years, she had to admit it. She’d always been insecure about the nature of their relationship. To her, it had always meant something. It had always been their wedding. But had it ever meant anything to him, or had he married her out of guilt?

_When I was little, I was going to marry you._

He’d promised to marry her as she’d lain, dying—or so he’d thought—in Hitler’s office.

_I don’t want to marry you._

He’d broken her hearts with those words inside a pyramid as she sacrificed time itself to save him.

There were times when she thought he loved her, but there were also times when she doubted she’d ever been anything but a game to him. Because the Doctor was so much more than human, so much more than her. She loved him the way she loved the stars: with no expectation of being loved in return.

He’d held her hand. He’d kissed her. They’d gone further than that, but never once had he told her he loved her. He’d murmured sweet nothings into her ear, kissed her so passionately she saw stars, but never once had he said it to her.

Was she nothing more than a game, a toy to be used and then thrown away when it was no longer wanted?

“I don’t know,” she said at last, her voice cracking. She felt raw, and hollow, and there was a lump in her throat she couldn’t seem to chase away. “He was the man I loved. Sometimes that was enough. Sometimes it wasn’t.”

Something in her tone made Jenna hesitate to push her any farther. “It’s all right if you don’t want to talk about him. I understand.”

But she shook her head. “No. I need to… someone needs to know. Someone needs to know who I am, why I’m here. I’m here because he’ll never come here. He doesn’t like endings. Who does? But the rest of us move on. That’s what I’m doing. Moving on.”

Even as she spoke, she couldn’t convince herself. Could this be considered moving on, if she thought about him every waking moment? She was far away from him, but she hadn’t moved on. She wasn’t sure she could.

_So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past._

She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to forget her past. _Their_ past, because it was his as much as it was hers.

It was a moment before Jenna spoke again.

“Why do you have to move on?”

She laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. “It’s a necessary part of life, isn’t it? Things change. People change. Maybe we’ve changed too much to be content with who we used to be.”

“Who you are at heart doesn’t change.”

“Maybe not, but I never knew that part of him. He never knew that part of me.” She sighed. “He never will.”

“What happened?” Jenna asked.

“He left me one too many times. I just… I can’t stand it anymore. I loved him, and I’m not sure he ever loved me. I’m not sure if he even could.”

“How do you know?” Jenna realized that she may have been crossing the line between curious and nosy here, but as long as River was willing to tell her, she would ask. She was getting the feeling that River didn’t really care who was listening; she just needed to tell someone, anyone at all.

“It’s impossible to explain. I managed to convince myself otherwise for a long time, but…” she sighed. “I can’t pretend anymore. I have always been in love with him. I never wanted to admit to myself that he didn’t feel the same.”

“What if you’re wrong?” Jenna asked. “What if he does love you?”

“I’m not wrong,” River said firmly. Because she knew. Much as she’d always wished it were otherwise—much as she still wished for it to be otherwise—she’d never mattered that much to him.

“He never loved me.” She couldn’t quite bring herself to believe it, even now. “And it’s all right, it really is. I’ve moved on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we finally know who Jenna is. Thank you all for reading, and especially to those who have bookmarked or left kudos or comments. I appreciate it! :)  
> -Ryann  
> P.S. Kudos to anyone who gets that not-so-sneaky reference I put in. Not my words, those belong to F. Scott Fitzgerald. And, as always, Doctor Who doesn't belong to me (sadly).


	18. Chapter 18

_“River! River, this is ridiculous. That would mean nothing to anyone. It's insane. Worse, it's stupid.” The words flood out of his mouth in a torrent, each causing a little stab of pain inside her heart. “You embarrass me.”_

_She wants to hate him. She should have just finished the job in Hitler’s office, let him die on those steps. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t then and she can’t now. Somewhere along the way, she has lost her hearts to him._

_She stands there, mute, not really sure what to say. What_ can _she say? She always knew this wouldn’t be easy. But somewhere along the way she’d persuaded herself that it was worth it. Somewhere along the way, one of those visits he had paid her in the university, one of those wonderfully romantic dates he’d swept her away to, she’d managed to convince herself that he’d felt the same way about her. She realizes now that she was naïve, foolish, so blinded by love that she’d deluded herself._

_She should have killed him instead of falling in love with him, but there’s no going back now._

_Amy arrives, sparing her from an answer. “We barricaded the door. We've got a few minutes. Just tell him. Just tell him, River.”_

_She has to. There’s no going back now, no matter what he says. She won’t kill him._

_“Those reports of the sun spots and the solar flares. They're wrong. There aren't any. It's not the sun, it's you. The sky is full of a million, million voices saying yes, of course we'll help. You've touched so many lives, saved so many people. Did you think when your time came, you'd really have to do more than just ask? You've decided that the universe is better off without you, but the universe doesn't agree,” she pleads. How does he always forget? Why do the losses stick with him and the lives he has saved slip into the past? He deserves to let go of the guilt, to stop carrying that weight on his shoulders. There are so many he’s saved, so many that are willing to give him help in his darkest hour if only he’d accept it._

_“River, no one can help me,” he says, but she’s long since ceased to listen. Nothing he says can convince her that the alternative is better than this. “A fixed point has been altered. Time is disintegrating.”_

_“I can't let you die,” she says softly._

_“But I have to die.”_

_“Shut up!” Why can’t he let someone save him, for once? He deserves that much. “I can't let you die without knowing you are loved by so many, and so much, and by no one more than me.”_

_There are tears in her eyes despite her best efforts to hide them, and she hopes he won’t reject her this time. Foolish, she reminds herself. He doesn’t love her. But some part of her refuses to let go of the hope._

_“River, you and I, we know what this means,” he says quietly, and at least it’s not an outright rejection. “We are ground zero of an explosion that will engulf all reality. Billions on billions will suffer and die.”_

_“I'll suffer if I have to kill you,” she says breathlessly, and it’s not a lie. She’s not the unfeeling psychopath Madame Kovarian thinks she is. She’s not without blood on her hands; she can be casual about death, but not about his death. She would never play around when it comes to the man she loves._

_“More than every living thing in the universe?” he asks, a little on the skeptical side. But she doesn’t hesitate._

_“Yes.”_

_“River, River, why do you have to be this?” He turns to look at her parents, who are standing behind her, supporting her, as always. “Melody Pond, your daughter. I hope you're both proud.”_

_“I'm not sure I completely understand.” Rory sounds confused, but she’s not really listening. She’s looking, just looking at the man in front of her. She can’t kill him. Why doesn’t he understand that? Fixed points be damned; time can be changed, no matter what anyone says. The universe may very well collapse as a result, but she doesn’t owe the universe anything. What has the universe ever done for her but cause her heartache?_

_“Okay, I need a strip of cloth about a foot long. Anything will do,” the Doctor says suddenly, bringing her back to the present. She’s about to ask why when he seems to have an idea. “Never mind.”_

_He takes off his bowtie, and she wonders what he’s doing. What could possibly be the use of a bowtie in this situation?_

_“River, take one end of this,” he tells her, and she’s not sure she should. It could be a trick, a ploy to get reality back to normal. But she takes the other end of the bowtie anyway. She’s always trusted him, even when she knew she shouldn’t. “Wrap it around your hand, and hold it out to me.”_

_“What am I doing?” she asks._

_“As you're told,” he says, and she has to admit she finds the way he says it attractive. “Now, we're in the middle of a combat zone, so we'll have to do the quick version. Captain Williams, say I consent and gladly give.”_

_“To what?” Rory asks, and that’s exactly what she wants to know. It sounds like something they’d say in a wedding ceremony._

_“Just say it. Please,” the Doctor says._

_“I consent and gladly give.”_

_“Need you to say it too, mother of the bride.”_

_Butterflies flutter in her stomach despite her attempts to keep them away. This can’t be happening; it doesn’t make any sense! But since when has River cared about that?_

_Amy doesn’t hesitate for a second. “I consent and gladly give.”_

_“Now River, I'm about to whisper something in your ear, and you have to remember it very, very carefully, and tell no one what I said,” the Doctor says, and she wonders what the hell she’s gotten herself into this time. Is this what she thinks it is? But it can’t be._

I don’t want to marry you _, he’d said._

_And she doesn’t want to murder him. It looks like they’re both going to end up doing what they don’t want to today._

_He whispers in her ear and she follows his instructions, looks into his eye and sees him, the real him. There are so many emotions raging through her that she doesn’t know what to think. She’s relieved that she won’t have to kill him, furious with him for lying, confused as to what this is. Is it a wedding, or merely an excuse made to buy her off, a way to get her to return the timelines to normal? Does he even care about her, or is this just the most convenient course of action?_

_“I just told you my name,” he says loud enough for her parents to hear. Rule One: the Doctor lies. “Now, there you go, River Song. Melody Pond. You're the woman who married me.”_

_And she is, now, isn’t she? But does this really count, and what prompted his sudden change of mind? Once again she’s reminded of lying on the floor of Hitler’s office, of the guilt she sees in his eyes as he promises to marry her as long as she lives, as long as she breathes. She was nothing more than another regret to him then; why should this moment, atop a pyramid with time collapsing around them, change that?_

_“And wife, I have a request. This world is dying and it's my fault, and I can't bear it another day.” His fault. He always takes the blame, even when it’s not his to bear. “Please, help me. There isn't another way.”_

_She never could resist him anyway. Hitler’s office had proven that. She knows what she has to do now, steels herself and tries to be brave. It’s not killing him, but she knows it will feel that way._

_“Then you may kiss the bride,” she says, and he takes her hand in his._

_“I'll make it a good one,” he promises._

_She smirks, appearing far more confident than she really feels. “You'd better.”_

_And then his lips are on hers. It’s everything she ever dreamed of and so much more, and for a second she believes he means it, too. But then it’s slipping away in a haze of yellow light and they’re back on the beach and her arm is raising, raising, and she cries and wonders again why they can’t be normal._

She awoke with a gasp, tangled in her sheets and unsure of where she was until she recognized the empty walls and cold atmosphere of the apartment. She lay still, took deep breaths in and out until her hearts stopped their frantic beating, trying to ignore the tears that pricked at the back of her eyes, trying not to relive the sound of the final shots she had fired. It was over now. That day had been past for many years, and he was alive. But in her dreams it felt as real as the day it had really happened.

Why couldn’t he leave her alone? He haunted her every thought. Each little thing reminded her of him, and even in her sleep he wouldn’t leave her in peace. Her dreams were filled with memories of their times together and old, almost-forgotten hopes for their future. It had been nearly six weeks since she’d come back to the Library, six weeks of trying to forget him. Six weeks where every man in a bowtie wore his face, where she thought—hoped—she saw him around every corner and was disappointed every time.

She got up, paced to the window and looked out over the Library. It was silent and silvered under the light of the doctor moon, utterly alone and forsaken. She opened the door onto the balcony, stepped out into the warmth of the night. It was summer here, and the breeze was warm despite the dark clouds swirling overhead, illuminated and lit in blinding silver by the moonlight.

She stood there for a long time, motionless, and watched the moon as it moved in the sky. It was nothing more than an illusion, she knew, but it looked so real she could imagine a summer evening in Leadworth, a sleepover under the stars in a tent in Amy’s backyard. It was strange, she realized, how illusions could seem so very real. The illusion of a moon, of a life, of love. Her own happy ending had been nothing more than a fading mirage in the end.

She looked up when the first drop fell onto her arm, watched the clouds cover the doctor moon. The air came alive, the heavens opened like the sky was crying for her. She stood still in the rain and let it wash over her as it ran in rivulets down her legs and across the bare skin of her feet. It soaked her clothes, her hair, ran down her face and when she realized the rain tasted like salt, she didn’t even try to stop the tears. Her chest heaved and she let the tears come, grateful for once to acknowledge the pain. It rained and she cried, cried for having lived, for having loved, for having lost.

She had nothing left but dreams now, and soon not even that. She could never go back to her old life, to her old home. She had been foolish to even believe there was a chance of that. Because as long as the Doctor was looking for her, she’d never be safe there. Oh, she knew he wouldn’t do anything to her were he to find her—he wasn’t that kind of man. He would never hurt her no matter what she did to him. No, she was afraid of what she would do were she to see him again. She couldn’t go back, because if she did she knew she would be tempted to fall back into his arms. And that was something she could never do, knowing what she did now.

She’d told Jenna she didn’t love him anymore, but that was a lie. In some ways, she would never stop loving him. She was capable of living a life without him, of moving on; with time, the ache would fade and she would begin to forget. But somewhere deep inside, River knew she would never again love another the way she had loved the Doctor.


	19. Chapter 19

“Hello?” the Doctor asked, trying not to sound as excited as he felt. Hardly anyone had the TARDIS phone number; that meant this call was important.

They’d been waiting for three days now, three long days without any running or adventures whatsoever. The TARDIS had sat, parked in the same position, for a full seventy-two hours, making a square indentation in River’s carpet. He had the feeling she wouldn’t have been too happy to see that.

River. She had the TARDIS telephone number. He tried not to get his hopes up. It couldn’t be her. She wouldn’t call him.

“Hi!” The voice on the other side sounded relieved. “This is the Doctor?”

“Yeah, that’s me. Who’s this?”

“Jenna,” the girl replied.

“Jenna!” His hearts sank even as he answered with an enthusiastic tone. He _was_ glad to hear from her, though she hadn’t been the one he’d hoped to hear from. “And what can I do for you today?”

“Um, nothing, actually,” she said, a slightly nervous edge to her voice. “I just—how is she?”

“How long has it been since I left the Library?” he wondered, avoiding the question.

“Um…” she sounded like she was trying to calculate. “Roughly nine weeks.”

“This is the first time you’ve used the number I gave you?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “How about for you? How long?”

“Just a few weeks,” he told her, not at all surprised that time wasn’t lining up. For a supposed lord of time, he certainly had a knack for arriving at precisely the wrong time.

“So, how is River?” she asked, though really she knew full well. She’d spent the past six weeks getting to know River Song. They made a better team than she would’ve thought possible; they were very different, but somehow understood each other well. And she’d understood from the very first story River had told about the Doctor that they were meant to be together. For a while she’d resolved not to interfere; it was none of her business. But after weeks of waiting, weeks of seeing the heartbreak that came over River’s face whenever she mentioned him, she couldn’t wait any longer.

“She’s gone,” he admitted, the words popping out of his mouth before he’d thought up a suitable lie.

“Gone how, exactly?” she asked cautiously, not wanting to give anything away.

“She left. She couldn’t forgive me for it, so she left.” He wasn’t sure why he was telling her this. She was a stranger to him; for all the help she’d given him, he’d only known her for a few hours. He didn’t even know her last name, he realized now, just her last initial from the name tag she’d been wearing.

Jenna was silent for a moment, so silent that he had to check to make sure she was still on the line.

“Yeah, I’m here,” she said, followed by another pause. “So, Doctor. Did you love her?”

Of course he did. What sort of question was that?

“More than anything,” he said.

There was another long pause, but this time he trusted that she was still there.

“What did you do to make her leave you?” Jenna sounded as if she were talking to herself more than him, thinking out loud. “She loved you, too. So what did you do that made her leave?”

He shrugged helplessly, then realized she couldn’t see him. “I’ve made mistakes. But I thought… she wouldn’t even let me explain myself.”

 _Don’t wait up_.

She had always waited for him, had always done what needed to be done even when she was close to collapsing. She had stood firm against the angel in graveyard, held him when he cried, borne the weight of their back to front relationship. And he’d left her when she’d needed him most. That was what he’d done wrong, and he knew it all too well.

“Come back to the Library, Doctor,” Jenna said quietly, stirring him from his thoughts.

“I can’t.” It would hurt too much, after losing her. He had thought she’d died there, but even now that he knew she hadn’t, he couldn’t face that place. It was her hell, the damnation _he’d_ sentenced her to. It held the souls of those he hadn’t been able to save—the two Daves, Anita, Miss Evangelista. And River Song.

“If you love her, you’ll come back,” she said firmly.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with her,” he said, the words a bit harsher than he’d originally intended.

“Just come to the Library. Please.”

She hung up before he could argue.

***

“What happened to you?” Jenna asked, looking her over. It was early in the morning, so early that Jenna had been sleeping when River’s knock had awoken her. Jenna’s hair was a frizzy mess, and she was in her pajamas.

“It was raining.” She didn’t bother to give any more of an explanation.

“Yes, but…” Jenna looked utterly astonished. “River, it was the middle of the night! What were you doing out in the rain?”

She cracked a smile. “Free shower.”

“No, seriously.” Jenna wasn’t amused. “It’s”—she checked her watch—“five-thirty in the morning. What’s gotten into you?”

She shrugged.

“River, you can’t ju—”

“I’m a grown woman, Jenna. I can take care of myself. I just… I don’t know, I like the rain. It reminds me of better times.”

“Are you okay?”

“Right as rain, pun intended.” She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She honestly wasn’t sure why she’d decided to walk over to Jenna’s flat at such an hour; she’d just been so unbearably lonely, looking out over the empty Library, that she couldn’t stand to be by herself any longer.

Jenna was silent a few moments, looking her over. She seemed all right but for the sadness in her gaze, and, of course, the fact that she was soaked. Her clothes still dripped, and the strands of her hair were water-laden and heavy. Still they curled, defying the laws of physics.

“You should go back,” she said after a while, catching River off guard.

“What?”

“I—” she was tempted to tell her about the phone call she had made the previous night, but she knew it wasn’t the solution. If River wanted to leave him behind, that was her business. If the Doctor didn’t come back to the Library, that was his choice. She shouldn’t interfere. But a part of her knew, from the way he had looked at her, from the way she had spoken of him, that they were still in love, even now.

Jenna sighed. “Nothing.”

“Um, do you mind if I come in?” River asked after a moment, and Jenna moved aside so that she could enter the flat.

“You need some clothes,” she told River, looking her over. “You can borrow a few things of mine until I get yours washed and dried. Does that sound all right?”

“That would be good, thanks,” River replied. She’d left everything back at the flat—at _home_ , she forced herself to think. This was home now. She had very little in the way of clothes, anyway; most of the money she’d had with her had gone into purchasing the flat. She hadn’t given much thought to anything when she’d left; all she’d had was her vortex manipulator, the money she’d had tucked into a little pocket on the strap of the manipulator, and the clothes on her back. The clothes weren’t even hers; she’d “borrowed” them from someone’s car before coming to the Library. Well, for that matter, the money wasn’t hers, either. She’d taken it off a man she’d once known, one of the many who had thought she’d loved him. But that had been so long ago it may as well have been hers anyway. She’d used most of the money to buy the flat before realizing she needed clothing and food as well. So she’d taken a job at a restaurant. It wasn’t ideal—it was mind-numbingly boring, especially for someone as brilliant as River—but she did her best.

 “All right. Um, how about you wait here while I go find some clothes for you to wear?” Jenna gestured to an open door to the right, through which River could see a coffee table and a couple of chairs.

Jenna’s flat was slightly larger than River’s; it had a separate living room, bedroom, and kitchen. It was to the living room that Jenna gestured, and as Jenna set off down the hallway, presumably to her bedroom, River took a seat in one of the arm chairs in the living room. The room had a large window that let in the light of the sun, just beginning to rise over the horizon. The sky had cleared of clouds; a few hung low over the horizon, but all evidence of the rainstorm had passed.

She looked out the window and marveled at how, after everything, the sun still rose.

***

“Who was that?” Clara asked, emerging from the hallway with a yawn. Clearly she had just woken up; her hair was mussed from sleep, and she was wearing a bathrobe.

“Oh, um, just an acquaintance,” he told her. “I was thinking maybe we could take a little trip? I don’t think waiting her out is going to work.”

She grinned. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well…”

“What?”

“The Library,” he said hurriedly.

“I thought you never wanted to go back there,” she said, surprised.

“Yes, well, I’ve changed my mind.”

Clara raised an eyebrow. “Does this have anything to do with the phone call? Was it River?”

“No.”

“Who was it, then?”

“Someone I met in the Library.”

“Meaning?” Clara asked.

“Her name is Jenna, and I trust her judgement,” he said stiffly.

“All right, then.” She chose not to question him further. “Give me a few minutes to get dressed.”

***

When Jenna returned to the room with some clothing she thought might fit River—they were quite different sizes, so it hadn’t been an easy feat to find things that would fit—she found her friend asleep on the sofa, her face more peaceful than she’d ever seen it. The sun had risen over the horizon, bathing the room in golden light, its delicate rays coming to rest on River’s skin, still a shade paler than usual. She had recovered much of her strength in the past weeks; to the casual observer, she appeared to be completely healthy. But her skin had not yet regained its healthy glow, her eyes still retained a feverish glint on late nights or in emotional moments.

Jenna watched her for a moment, deciding to let her sleep. She knew River didn’t sleep well; much as she might try to deny it, the dark circles under her eyes told a different story. Some nights she called Jenna late at night, left a message if she didn’t pick up. Jenna wasn’t sure if she really intended to tell her the things she did in those messages, late at night, or if she left them just because she needed to tell even the empty air. She had nightmares, Jenna knew. Living here wasn’t easy for her. It was the place she had died, the place where he had left her for so long. And Jenna knew River would never forgive herself for the others’ deaths—what had happened to the other members of the expedition wasn’t River’s fault, but she didn’t see it that way.

The phone began to ring in the other room, bringing Jenna’s thoughts back to the present. She set down the pile of clothes on the couch next to River and hurried into the other room to pick up the call.


	20. Chapter 20

The number wasn’t immediately recognizable to her, though it did seem a bit familiar. She picked up the phone, keeping her voice soft so as not to wake River.

“Who’s this?”

“It’s me.” She just about rolled her eyes at that; honestly, didn’t people realize that “me” wasn’t a very helpful identifier?

“Hello, Me,” she said pointedly.

“No, no, it’s not Me, it’s the Doctor,” he said.

“Well, of course your name isn’t Me,” she replied, amused now that she knew who it was. From anyone else it would have been smart-alecky, but from him it seemed like innocent (and endearing) cluelessness.

“So, Jenna.” He paused.

“What did you want to talk about?” Jenna asked.

“Well… I’m here.”

She was speechless for a moment; the last time she’d spoken with him, she’d thought there wasn’t a chance of him coming back. But maybe he’d changed his mind. She hoped so.

“What, you mean _here_? Like, the Library?” she asked after a moment.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “So, where are you? I need to talk to you.”

“Doctor, it’s not even _six o’clock in the morning_!” What was it with everyone needing to talk to her in the middle of the night? Surely they could wait until a godly hour of the morning! She’d been running on very little sleep lately; she’d had to work late in the hospital the past few days. Today she hadn’t gotten home until close to one o’clock, and right now she would have much preferred to be sound asleep in her bed. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like that was going to be happening any time soon.

“Yes, I know, bright and early,” he said cheerfully. “So, where can you meet me?”

“Biography section?” she suggested, resisting the urge to sigh. Apparently a little sleep was too much to ask for, between River and the Doctor and her father (who still hadn’t quite forgiven her for River’s disappearance despite the fact that it had been over two months ago).

“All right. Yes, I’ll see you there momentarily.”

“Doctor, wait—” she started, but he’d already hung up. Heaving a long sigh, she, too, hung up and went to get dressed.

***

He had parked the TARDIS in an out-of-the-way corner, behind the towering bookshelves, and then he and Clara had gone into the lobby area to wait. Even this early, it was full of people checking out books, returning them, and asking the nodes for information. For a moment he was reminded of Donna, the best friend he’d ever had, standing in almost this same position.

But today it was a different woman who stood next to him, and a different woman he would meet here. Today, the Library wasn’t silent. Today, he hoped to gain something here instead of losing the woman he loved.

Jenna hurried towards him and Clara, lifting a hand in greeting as she approached.

“Doctor,” she greeted him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“You called.”

“I suppose I did. But I wasn’t expecting you to come.” She paused a moment, gestured to Clara. “Care to introduce me?”

“Clara Oswald,” Clara interjected quickly, before the Doctor could say anything. Knowing him, he’d likely bungle it and say something embarrassing. “And you are…?”

“Jenna Lewis.” The way she said it was vaguely uncomfortable, as if it wasn’t really her name, but Clara didn’t bother to question her. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“And the same to you, I’m sure.”

“Why did you call me?” the Doctor asked.

Jenna hesitated. “Why did you come?”

“You called,” he replied.

That alone couldn’t be the reason, she knew. It would take a hell of a lot more than a phone call to get him to return to the place where his wife had died.

“I know you wouldn’t want to come back here unless you absolutely had to,” she said. “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d come back even after I called. So why did you, really?”

_If you love her, you’ll come back._

That was why. He was grasping at straws, he knew, but if there was any chance of finding River again, he had to take it. What did River have to do with all this? To his knowledge, Jenna had only known what he’d told her and what was in the history books. Yet somehow she’d seemed to know something more about their relationship than anything she could’ve possibly learned from Lux’s autobiography.

“You’ve seen her, haven’t you?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t wrong.

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“Where is she now?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“If she doesn’t want to see you again, I won’t make her,” Jenna told him. But that was the thing: River _did_ want to see him again, even if she wouldn’t admit it to herself. Jenna had seen the way she talked of him, the wistful look in her eyes whenever his name came up in one of their conversations. But she had also seen the hurt he had caused her, River’s doubt that he had ever felt anything at all for her. Oh, she hid it well, but Jenna had always been good at reading people. River loved him still; her claims to the contrary were hollow, as if she were trying to convince herself. Jenna wouldn’t have called him at all if she hadn’t thought that deep down, River needed to see him again.

“Will you tell her I’m here?” He tried not to plead, but he _had_ to find her.

“I’ll tell her. But that’s all. If she doesn’t want to see you again, I will not make her. Do you understand?” she told him firmly, and he nodded. “Good. I’ll see you around, then. Provided you’re staying.”

“I’m staying,” he assured her, and he had every intention of doing so. He would stay as long as it took.

As Jenna turned and walked away, he called out to her once more.

“Just… when you see her, tell her that I love her, all right?” he asked. Jenna turned back around to face him.

“I think you need to do that yourself,” she replied, and walked away.

***

By the time Jenna had returned, River had changed into some new clothes, washed her wet garments, and was busy making breakfast for the two of them.

Upon hearing the front door open, she called, “Anyone for scrambled eggs?”

Jenna grinned, turning the corner and catching sight of her friend. “Thanks, River.”

“Not a problem,” she replied, shoveling steaming scrambled eggs onto a plate and handing it to Jenna, who grabbed the plate along with the salt and pepper and took them to the table. After serving herself and putting the pan in the sink, River joined Jenna at the table, where a pitcher of orange juice and two glasses sat.

“So, where did you get to this morning?” she inquired, pouring herself and Jenna a glass of orange juice. Jenna stopped with her fork midway to her mouth, wondering what she should say. She’d told the Doctor she would let River know he was here, but was that really the best thing to do? She was beginning to have second thoughts.

“Spit it out,” River said after a moment. “I can practically see your brain formulating excuses. Whatever it is, just tell me.”

“I’m really not sure that’s for the best,” said Jenna weakly.

“I swear, whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Jenna took a sip of orange juice, clearly stalling, until River fixed her with a look that would have—and had, once—made a Dalek beg for mercy.

“Okay, okay,” she sighed. “Please, just… tell me you can handle it, okay? Don’t do something rash.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” River assured her. What on earth could Jenna be talking about? Her mind jumped immediately to the Doctor, but she shook off the thought as quickly as possible. She was happy here, she told herself, and she wouldn’t think of him any longer. Jenna was likely talking about something entirely.

“I really don’t think this is a good idea…”

“Just tell me.”

There was a long silence until finally Jenna gave a sigh. “He’s here. He called me, and I went to meet him.”

River couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. _He_ was here. Surely she couldn’t mean…? That was impossible. He wouldn’t return to the Library for anything, and certainly not for her. She knew he blamed himself for what had happened there, for the deaths of the other members of the expedition; he wouldn’t want to come back. She hadn’t wanted to, either. Each day she spent there was hard, filled with memories of what she’d lost. In truth, she blamed herself for what had happened there. She’d known it was dangerous and in spite of it she’d let them come—no, not in spite of it. _Because_ of it. She’d called her Doctor and assembled her team, and it had nearly been the death of all of them.

“Who is ‘he?’” she asked, trying to seem nonchalant but altogether failing.

“The Doctor,” Jenna told her, and she honestly wasn’t sure what to feel.

“That’s impossible,” she heard herself say as if from a distance. Her hearts were beating far too loud in her ears for her to hear Jenna’s response. “He wouldn’t come back. Not for me.”

“He did,” Jenna said. “He came back.”

There was a part of River that was still angry; maybe she’d never find a way to fully forgive him for what he’d put her through. But another part was hopeful that this could be their new beginning. A new beginning together, the happy ending she knew they both deserved.

“What did he say?” The words tumbled out, her voice breathless like a giddy schoolgirl, but she didn’t even try to hold back.

“He wanted me to tell you he’d come back. And… there was another thing, but I told him he should tell you in person. That is, if you want to see him,” she added quickly. “I told him that if you didn’t want to, I wouldn’t make you.”

Of course she wanted to. These last few weeks without him had been torture. She’d tried to move on, to forget him, but deep down she knew that was impossible. She had flirted with others, sure, had even married them if she’d had to, but he was the only one she’d ever loved. He was the only one she ever would love.

He wanted to see her again. She didn’t dare hope for anything more than that. If he never loved her, she would go on loving him until the end of time itself. There would always be a part of her that sought to make him love her, but no matter what he felt or didn’t feel for her, she would always be in love with him.

Killing him had been the hardest thing she’d ever had to do, but leaving him had been the second hardest. Running away had been futile, in the end. He haunted her dreams, her thoughts, her heart.

She had to see him again, if only for her own sanity. She hoped they would get the chance to say all those things that had hung between them, heavy and unsaid, for all those years. But if all he wanted to do was apologize and move on with his life, she would let him.

All she had ever wanted was for those she loved to be happy, even if that meant sacrificing her own happiness in the process.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very excited to finally post this chapter... hope you enjoy it! :)

“Hello?”

It was him, all right. She’d half hoped he wouldn’t answer, half hoped she hadn’t remembered the number properly. After all, it had been a very long time since she’d called him, and generally she had more… _creative_ ways of summoning the Doctor when she needed him. But that number was inked into her soul, forever ingrained in her. She could never forget it, even if she wanted to.

“Hello.” She couldn’t quite manage the usual flirty tone, the _sweetie_ she usually greeted him with. What they had was too fragile, too damaged for that now.

“Who’s this?” he asked, and she felt her stomach twist itself into knots. She’d hoped he’d recognize her voice, that somehow he’d know. But how would he? she asked herself now. Why would he pick up the phone hoping to hear her voice?

She didn’t know how to answer him. Her throat was tight with tears that wouldn’t fall, her head spinning just from hearing the sound of his voice. God, how did he do this to her?

“Meet me at the mainframe,” she gasped out finally, not sure why she’d picked that particular place. It was where she’d died, where both of them had had their hearts torn out. It was where she’d left Charlotte behind, where she’d lived a thousand years without him, all the while believing him to be at her side. It was a place with too many memories, all of them sad.

He started to say something, but she hung up the phone before he could hear the sob that choked its way out of her throat.

***

It was River. _It was River._ She was alive, she was here, she wanted to see him.

_Meet me at the mainframe,_ she’d said, and it was then that he’d known.

“River—” he’d started to say, but she’d hung up on him then.

He raced around the console room and into a room which the TARDIS had conveniently provided him. But no, he saw, stopping short. This wasn’t just any room.

It was _their_ room.

Her things still sat on every surface, her archaeology textbooks on the bedside table, her clothes in the closet, the smell of her perfume, even all these years later, hanging faintly in the still air. A red dress lay halfway off the bed, as if hastily discarded. He tore his eyes away from it, not wanting to remember. He’d always believed it to be their last night, that long night on Darillium. And what a night it had been.

He’d always sworn to himself that he wouldn’t cry, though she’d told him otherwise in the Library. But he hadn’t been able to keep that promise to himself, just as he’d always broken the rules when it came to River Song.

He’d cried into the fabric of that red dress, let her hold him and comfort him like he was the one who needed to be comforted. He had always been the fragile one, or so he’d thought. River was every bit as fragile, but she had never let him see the places where she was broken.

He remembered very well the way she had turned her head away so he wouldn’t see the tears in her own eyes. Oh, but he had seen. He had seen that she knew. She didn’t know how she would die, didn’t know when. But she had known very well that something was wrong, that this could very well be the last time she saw him. And he hadn’t had the courage to tell her then. It was something he would always regret. Even if he got to say it to her many times in the future, he would always wish he’d told her then and there. He should have told her long before it came to thise.

_I love you._

Because he did, more than anything. He’d told her through kisses, through gestures, through the way he looked at her. But he’d never said it.

She was the center of his universe. His hearts belonged to her wholly and irrevocably. His love for her transcended time and space and reached to eternity. He would never forget it, never forget her, as long as he lived.

He stood there, unmoving, for a few moments, just looking around. Just remembering. He hadn’t come in here since Darillium, since that night when he’d thought he’d lost her for good. He had thought he could leave the memories behind if he hid away all reminders of her, if he put away all her things and refused to speak her name. He had pretended not to notice when the TARDIS placed their bedroom door next to his destination, pretended not to look at their names intertwined with one another in Gallifreyan letters on the smooth wood.

He had pretended to forget, but he had always remembered.

And now, standing there, he felt an all too familiar lump rise in his throat. He realized now that he’d never stopped running from her, not really. He’d stilled for a moment here and there, a night together, a dinner out, a kiss and a touch and a smile. But he had never truly let himself love her without remembering the spoilers and, most of all, the end he had always known was coming for her.

But no longer. He would show her she was loved. He wouldn’t let a day go by in which he didn’t tell her she was beautiful. Shaking himself out of his memories, the Doctor crossed to the mirror and straightened his bowtie.

***

“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Jenna asked concernedly, looking River over. River nodded, wiping away the tears from under her eyes and pasting on a bright smile as she opened the door and stepped out.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she said firmly, and she hoped desperately that she was right. Taking a deep breath, she looked over at Jenna with a faint smile. “I just wanted to say… whatever happens, thank you. I owe you so much.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Jenna assured her.

“Yes, I do. You gave me the courage to face my fears, and for that I will always be grateful to you.”

“It’s what anyone would do.”

“No,” River said. “It’s what a friend would do.”

And then she was gone in a flash of light, leaving the space in front of Jenna filled with nothing but empty air.

***

He hadn’t yet arrived when she appeared thanks to her vortex manipulator, and she tried to quell the nervous fluttering in her stomach, the lingering suspicion that he wouldn’t come, by looking around the room.

It was much the same as it had been 1305 years before; she wasn’t sure whether the familiarity was a good thing or not. The Library brought back so many memories, and this room more than any other place. This was where she’d sacrificed herself for him. It was where she had lived for a thousand years without knowing she wasn’t really living at all.

Drawing in a shuddering breath, she closed her eyes and tried to focus on the present moment. She hadn’t chosen this place because it reminded her of the past. She’d chosen it because this was where she’d lived again, where she’d breathed again. The mainframe could be either an end or a beginning. This time she hoped it would be the start of a new future.

***

“She called?” Clara’s tone was flat, but the Doctor was too elated to acknowledge it. He nodded excitedly and flashed her a wild grin.

“I’m going to meet her now.”

 “I hope it goes well,” she told him, but her heart wasn’t in it. How could it be, when she was watching the man she loved walk away from her for good? Oh, they could still travel together, but they would only ever be friends. She knew that now.

“Me too,” the Doctor said giddily, and in any other moment she would have smiled at the tone of his voice. At this moment, her heart broke with every word he said.

He walked to the TARDIS doors and stepped outside. For a moment she thought he was going to leave without even looking back, but at the last second he turned back towards her.

“I’m glad you’re here, Clara. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

***

The Doctor arrived in a more traditional way than River had, entering the room so quietly that at first River didn’t at first notice his entrance. She had her back to the door and was absorbed in her own thoughts, which, despite her attempts to the contrary, kept straying to the Doctor and whether or not he was coming. He stood there for a moment, trying to figure out how to get her to notice him without startling her.

The sight of her was surreal after everything that had happened. He found it hard to believe that this was even real, sure that she’d turn around and it would turn out to be someone else after all.

But when at last she turned to face him, he knew this wasn’t a dream.

Her breath caught in her throat as she met his eyes, and she found herself transfixed, unable to move or breathe. After all this time… the last time she’d seen him, she’d been too caught up in everything that had happened to really process the fact that she was here, alive, with him.

“River?” It was more a breath than a word, but it was enough to break her out of her trance.

“You came,” she whispered, a hesitant smile flitting across her features.

“I will always come back for you.”

And yet he hadn’t. All too many times, he hadn’t. She bit her lip, not really sure what to say as he took a hesitant step towards her, slowly, as if afraid she would flee if he moved too suddenly. But she stood firm, moving neither towards nor away from him, half afraid that this was all just a dream. She was tempted to pinch herself, to make sure this was real.

He stopped a few feet away from her, close enough to touch if she wanted to. Close enough that it would be easy just to reach out and pull his mouth down to hers. But she didn’t. Instead, she drew in a shaky breath and forced herself to maintain eye contact.

“I’ve missed you,” she said softly. It was the only truth she trusted herself to speak right now without falling apart.

“I’ve missed you, too. More than anything,” he breathed, and she was all too aware of his nearness, his breath ghosting over her face. He was leaning in towards her, and she knew only too well where this was going.

She stepped away.

“I can’t. Not now,” River said, her voice cracking a bit. She tried to keep the apology out of her tone; why should she apologize? She didn’t owe him this. She had always given her love to him of her own free will; he never expected any more from her. It had always been her choice, what they did. He had always respected that, and so he did now.

He took a step back, away from her, and she wondered what would have happened if she’d let him kiss her. She could see the hurt in his eyes, the longing there when he looked at her.

Her words hurt him, but he wasn’t surprised. He’d known coming into this that it wouldn’t be easy, that happily-ever-after didn’t happen all at once. He had hurt her; he knew that now, even if she’d spent the entirety of their time together hiding it.

He took a deep breath in. “I’m sorry, River.”

She didn’t reassure him that it was all right, that it didn’t matter, and this time he didn’t expect her to. She merely looked away from him, focusing on keeping her breathing steady.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes, River.” The words spilled out of him in a flood. “I know now that I never did what was right by you. It’s just… I was scared. And I know that’s no excuse, but I knew, ever since the first time I met you, ever since you died here, that you would mean something to me. I didn’t want you to mean that much to me because I didn’t want to lose you. I tried to run away from it. But I couldn’t.”

He paused to take a breath, reached out a hesitant hand to touch her cheek. She tried not to flinch and let him tilt her chin up until she was looking him in the eyes once more. This time she didn’t even try to hide the tears.

“I love you, River Song. I have always loved you, even when I was trying to believe I didn’t. And I will always love you, if you’ll let me.”


	22. Chapter 22

She honestly couldn’t speak. Time seemed to be frozen around them. Seconds ticked by, the planet moved under their feet, but right here, right now, there was only River and the Doctor.

He merely stood and watched her for a moment, not coming any closer, as if seeing her for the first time. And perhaps he was. Perhaps he was seeing River Song as she truly was, as she’d never let him see her before.

Things would never be the same between them; that was impossible. But the Doctor thought that perhaps this could be a new beginning. A new beginning of something even better.

***

Jenna knocked hesitantly on the TARDIS doors, not sure if anyone was even inside. However, a moment later, the doors opened, revealing a melancholy Clara. She looked surprised at the sight of the other woman; Jenna supposed she’d probably been expecting the Doctor, maybe River as well.

“Uh, hi,” Jenna said awkwardly.

“Hello.” Clara stopped herself from asking her why she was there, realizing it would sound a bit rude. As it turned out, she didn’t have to ask.

“I suppose you’re probably wondering what I’m doing here,” Jenna said before Clara even had a chance to say anything else. “I, um, I thought maybe you’d like some company. It’s probably not easy.”

Clara’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What are you talking about?” She knew perfectly well what Jenna was talking about and her tone was a bit defensive, though she tried her best to sound normal.

Jenna didn’t want to be nosy—she knew it was honestly none of her business—but she’d seen the look on Clara’s face when the Doctor had requested Jenna tell River he loved her. It wasn’t surprising, really; clearly the two of them were very close and had been traveling together for some time. Probably she’d never even known he had a wife. After all, until recently, he’d thought River dead.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Jenna lightly. “I was wondering if you’d like to see the Library. You know, since the Doctor’s not here. I live here; I could easily give you a tour. And with much less running,” she added. “He’s a bit prone to danger, isn’t he?”

Clara nodded, trying to smile. “I suppose he is.”

“I’m sure it must be exciting, traveling with him. But I’d want a break from all that running once in a while. So, what do you say?”

What harm could it possibly do? She needed to take her mind off things, anyway. All she could picture was the Doctor kissing River, his fingers threaded through hers, holding her hand. How many times had Clara held those hands? How many times had she stood in his embrace? She’d never kissed him, it was true. Not in this life. They’d only ever been friends, from his point of view. That was all they would ever be.

“All right,” Clara said, and let Jenna lead her out of the TARDIS.

***

There were so many things they needed to say, but neither one could—or even wanted to—find the words to speak. It was River who broke the silence at last.

“How long has it been for you?”

“Three days,” he told her. “But it was an eternity. I’m sorry, River. I know you don’t want my apologies. Nothing can really make up for what I put you through. But I never intended it. I would never want to hurt you.”

“I know,” she said, and she did. Oh, he’d hurt her many times. He’d been cavalier about her feelings at worst, clueless at best. But she sincerely doubted he’d ever done it with the intention of hurting her.

“So, um…” He wrung his hands in that way that he had, at once childlike and ancient. “Am I forgiven?”

 _Always and completely forgiven_ echoed in her mind, but she couldn’t give him that. The shadows of their past would always linger. Even now, even after six weeks in the Library, the pain of his abandonment still stung. It wasn’t something she could forgive easily, but she was willing to try for both of their sakes.

She gave him as strong a smile as she could muster. “You’ll have to give me time.” Seeing his crestfallen expression, she added, “But you came back. And that means the world to me.”

“Of course I came back.” He sounded surprised that she would assume otherwise, but she merely gave him a sad smile and looked away.

“Over one thousand years later,” she pointed out, her tone not angry this time, just sad. Before he could say anything more, she sighed. “Look, Doctor, none of this has been easy for me. Not my…. death, or realizing my existence was a lie, or leaving you again. Believe me, there hasn’t been a day here that I didn’t miss you. But I need time. Time to figure out who I am, who you are. Who we are together.”

She paused, looked up and met his eye again. “I love you. I always have; it’s been no secret. But I never expected you to love me back. I hoped you would, but I never for a moment expected it from you. Who knew if Time Lords were even capable of something so human as love?”

“Riv—” he began, but she cut him off.

“I thought I understood, once I woke up. You must have felt in some way indebted to me; I had died for you, or so you thought. So you married me, out of guilt or debt or convenience. And when our timelines were no longer entangled, when I was long gone, you left me alone. That was it. You’d never really felt anything at all for me other than responsibility. I was nothing but another casualty that you’d done your best to patch up before sauntering back off into the TARDIS again.”

“But that’s not true!” the Doctor protested.

“Isn’t it?” Some part of her thought still thought it might be.

“No, River, it’s not. I love you. I was scared and selfish, but I _did_ love you. I _do_ love you. And I will not stop telling you that until you believe it.”

She wanted to believe it as she had used to, but she was more cautious now. There was a flicker of doubt in her mind, but the sincerity in his eyes was enough to convince her.

“I’ve been thinking over the past few weeks,” she said. He opened his mouth to interrupt, but she went on. “And before you ask, it’s been nearly six weeks since I left you. Out of sync, as always. I thought I understood why you married me, that day when I left again. But I was wrong about some things. I did blame you for it, and maybe I’m not completely wrong in assigning you the blame. I know you thought I’d died, and I do understand that it would have been hard for you to come back. But it still hurts me to realize you would have left me like that. All the I-love-yous in the world cannot change that.”

She took a breath. “I’ve always lived knowing that there might not be a next time, that each of our meetings was one closer to the last. And I’ve always known that you might feel obligated to me because our timelines were so intertwined. I didn’t fully understand how guilty you might have felt until the Library. I won’t lie, I’ve always wondered if you only married me because you had to. The Library only reinforced my doubts that you even cared at all. And then… you left me. You’ll have to understand why I left when I woke up. I thought it would be better to leave than to hear you admit you’d never loved me at all.”

He nodded, drawing a heavy breath. “I understand.”

She let out her breath in a whoosh of air, a tightness in her chest that she couldn’t shake. “I’m sorry I didn’t even give you a chance. I should have waited until I was thinking clearly to talk to you about everything.”

“Oh, River,” he said, “you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who needs to apologize.”

“And you already have,” she said. “It’s all right, Doctor, you don’t need to apologize any more. I was wrong to leave like that. Much as you may have done, I am not entirely innocent, either.”

“Innocent is never a word I would’ve used to describe you, my dear.” He grinned, his tone slightly teasing, trying to lighten the mood. She smiled, more for his sake than on account of anything she was actually feeling.

“You’d be surprised,” she said softly. Oh, she’d never really been a good girl. She’d always had that wild enthusiasm, that thirst for life, and it had caused her to get into trouble on many an occasion. But she was, perhaps, more innocent than the Doctor thought. Yes, she was a shameless flirt when she was around him. But River without the Doctor was a very different matter.

She still had that same reckless side, but she was more… domestic. That was part of the reason she’d taken a job as professor of archaeology at her alma mater, Luna University. Oh, River loved the adventure, the thrill of a good chase, but she treasured those few quiet moments in between. She was just as content with her nose buried in a good book as she was in the middle of a battlefield or running with the Doctor. That was why she loved her job: the domesticity of it all, of sitting down beside the fire in the wintertime with a red pen and a pile of essays, of cooking a meal in her own kitchen, of always having a place to return to. But the Doctor had never cared for an ordinary life; when he asked her how her latest dig was, his tone was always flat, and then he moved the conversation along to the next thing before she had the chance to say more than a few words. He asked only because it was the polite thing to do, and eventually she’d stopped trying to make him care. If he didn’t want to know, she wouldn’t force him.

He looked taken aback yet again, and she realized for the first time just how hard this must be for him. Oh, he’d contributed a lot to her problems, but she hadn’t made this any easier for herself, either. How many opportunities had she had to tell him, to talk about things before it came to this? She had hidden so much from him, so much that he didn’t know who she truly was, and there was no one to blame for that but herself. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, like the best way to keep him by her side for as long as possible. But she realized now that she’d been doing herself no favors. What good were his promises of love if he didn’t know her for who she really was?

She sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t blame you for not knowing things I never told you.”

“Are you telling me now?” he asked, but it wasn’t really what he meant.

 _Are we done with hiding?_ That was the real question.

She drew a breath, nodded. “If you want to know.”

“More than anything,” he assured her, and she took a deep breath.

“You don’t have to,” she said. “If this is still about your guilt, or you feeling responsible for everything that has happened to me, please just say so. I’d rather know.”

She was offering him the easy way out, what she thought, even now, might be what he wanted.  But loving River Song had never been easy, and it had always been worth it to the Doctor. It didn’t matter to him just how hard it would be to regain her trust, to assure her that he loved her. Now that he had her back, he would never let her go again.

“No,” he told her firmly. “I want to know, if you’ll tell me.”


	23. Chapter 23

There was a part of her that wondered if anything could ever be the same after this, if he would still love her once he knew who she really was. She’d always been insecure in her identity—she was good at hiding her insecurities, but she had them all the same. She was human, after all.

He promised her his unconditional love, but could that ever truly exist? Could anyone love her despite her flaws, _because_ of them, even? They’d both made mistakes; they weren’t perfect, but nobody was. God only knew how she’d loved him in spite of what had happened to her at his hands. She loved him still, because he was a good man even with all of his imperfections.

And he loved her, even with hers. They were what made her human, and there was nothing more beautiful to him than that. Much as he may have griped about humans in the past (he could distinctly recall his ninth self labelling them “stupid apes”), he had always admired the human race. Time Lords were supposed to be superior, more advanced, but in some ways it wasn’t so. Where had all of their technology gotten them, in the end? Tearing the universe apart in order to vanquish their foes wasn’t a particularly noble mission. And humans, for all of their faults, were almost miraculous to the Doctor. They had the potential for so much good if they chose the right way. And so often, they did. So often, they were wiser and kinder and gentler than he would have thought possible. And they had taught him so, so much. In some ways, those were the ones he chose to travel with: the ones who made him better.

Rose Tyler had made him better. Donna Noble had made him better. River Song had made him better.

And where were they all now? Rose, trapped in a parallel universe. Martha, the courageous doctor now turned soldier because of him. Donna, living an ordinary life without any memories of their time together. Amy and Rory, sent back into the past by touch of an angel. And River, here, now, standing in front of him like the miracle she was. Even she should be gone, defeated by the ghosts of his past. He was selfish to keep them with him, he knew. If he’d never meddled in their lives, they would be happy now. But where would he be without them? Weighed down by a thousand regrets, painted with the tears and the blood of the Time Lords and the Daleks and every other life he’d ever destroyed. Never knowing things so human as laughter and mercy and, above all, love.

They had given him all of those things, but he was careless. He loved them and he lost them, leaving in his wake a trail of ruined lives and broken hearts.

But not this time. This time, for once, he had been given a second chance, and there was no way he was going to waste a single moment of the time they had together.

***

“So, um, what kind of books do you like to read?” Jenna asked Clara nervously. The other woman had remained very silent throughout their walk so far, not speaking unless she absolutely had to in the name of politeness. It was making Jenna question her choice to reach out to her.

“Oh, anything,” Clara said vaguely. Her mind was on other things, on a room far below them where the Doctor— _her_ Doctor—was meeting River Song.

His wife.

His wife, his wife, his wife. Repeating it over and over to herself did no good whatsoever. She wasn’t used to the thought of the Doctor having a wife, could scarcely believe it even after she’d seen the woman with her own eyes. She was a phantom, an illusion, to Clara.

Jenna said something that Clara didn’t quite catch, lost as she was in her own thoughts.

“What?” she asked, quickly adding, “Sorry, I’m a bit distracted.”

Jenna muttered something that Clara thought might’ve been _I can tell_ , but she really wasn’t in the mood to argue at the moment, and Jenna wasn’t, either.

“I asked if there was anything in particular you’d like to see,” Jenna said, sounding a trifle annoyed.

“The mainframe.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She should take it back, tell Jenna that she hadn’t meant it. It was none of her business what the Doctor and his wife did when they were alone.

“The mainframe?” Jenna sounded surprised.

Clara took a deep breath, sealing her fate, and nodded.

“It’s not generally open to the public,” Jenna said, and Clara couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disappointed. “Only a select few employees of the Felman Lux Corporation are allowed to go in.”

“Why?” More importantly, why was the Doctor allowed in?

“It’s… family stuff.”

“How do you know?” Clara asked.

“Just family business,” Jenna said briskly, and from the way she said it Clara wondered if she knew more that she was letting on.

“What did you say your name was?” she asked. The girl looked surprised.

“What?”

“How do you know about the private family matters of the Lux family, Jenna?”

Jenna stiffened. “It’s none of your business. Why do you want to go there, anyway? It’s not a major tourist destination.”

_Because the Doctor is there and I need to talk to him._

She shrugged. “The Doctor mentioned he’d been there.”

“So he has. It’s still none of your business what that room contains.”

Clara sighed. “I was just wondering.”

Jenna frowned, watching her. She knew that Clara had something on her mind that she wasn’t telling Jenna; and why would she tell her, anyway? They were complete strangers. Still, there was something familiar about the woman, as if she’d met her somewhere before. Something that made her want to trust Clara.

“All right,” she said at last. “If you want to know, look it up in a history book or something. It’s bound to be here somewhere.”

Oh, it would be. It was in the autobiography of her several times great-grandfather, Strackman Lux. Clara would never be able to find it, of course; the only reason Jenna could was because she had lived there her entire life. Twenty four years in the Library meant that she was familiar (almost too familiar, if you asked her) with the organization systems.

“You could take me to the mainframe,” Clara suggested.

“And why would I do that?”

“This was all in the name of cheering me up, wasn’t it?”

“I suppose so.” Jenna didn’t see her point.

“It might cheer me up,” Clara said.

“No.” Jenna was firm. Her father would _kill_ her for it. No one was supposed to know about the mainframe, and especially not complete strangers. He was already livid for her letting River escape from the hospital all those weeks earlier, and there was no telling what he would do if she broke another rule. Her father was not the most forgiving man.

“Please?” It was clear that Clara wasn’t going to give up anytime soon. Jenna sighed.

“All right, I’ll take you there. But we aren’t going inside under any circumstances.”

That was enough for Clara.

***

Jenna took her the long way, in the hopes that she’d get tired and want to turn back before they got there. But every time she asked, Clara firmly reassured her that no, she wasn’t tired, and yes, she really did want to see the mainframe even if it was just the entrance and even if that entrance wasn’t particularly impressive. Finally, Jenna had to admit defeat. Clara obviously wasn’t going to give it up, so Jenna was going have to take more drastic measures.

After about an hour of walking, she sighed and stopped in the middle of the corridor they were currently navigating.

“I think I’m lost.” It was a complete falsehood; Jenna had always had a good sense of direction, and she’d lived there twenty four years. She knew this part of the Library like the back of her hand—better, in fact. Because, to be honest, who really looked at the back of their own hand? It wasn’t a particularly interesting object to look at. No, she knew it as well as… her favorite book, which she’d read too many times to count. Yes, that was a better comparison. Either way, she’d been down to the mainframe many times, too many to count, to visit Charlotte. There was no way she could get lost.

Clara obviously didn’t believe her. “You know what’s in the mainframe, but you can’t get us there?”

Jenna shrugged. “Poor sense of direction. I get lost all the time.” Another lie.

“So what are we going to do?”

Jenna glanced down at her watch, grimacing as she registered the time. “Oh, no, I’m late for work.” This, unfortunately, was _not_ a lie. Her father was going to kill her, really and truly this time!

Clara looked annoyed. “So you’re saying you can’t get me there?”

Jenna shook her head. “Not at the moment. We’ll have to go another time. And I’ve got to go now! Ask one of the nodes for directions back to where we were; that’ll be Biographies. See you later!”

She hurried away before Clara could get another word out, leaving the other woman standing alone in the hall, wondering what to do. She couldn’t just go another time; it would be too late then. She needed to talk to the Doctor as soon as possible, to tell him how she felt for him since he obviously hadn’t realized.

So instead of asking the node for directions back to Biographies, she asked how to get to the mainframe.

***

This time, when he leaned in towards her, she let his lips meet her own. For the longest time after she would remember the bittersweet taste of her tears on his lips and smile. Because those tears didn’t taste like sadness or endings. They tasted of a new future. A new future with no more lies, no more spoilers, no more twisted timelines or guilt. A new future with just the two of them together. And it started with that kiss.

It was the same as all the other times, that kiss, but different, too. Sweeter somehow, and no longer tainted by the heaviness of words unsaid that had always hung over them before. For the first time, she could truly believe he really meant it. And for the first time, he could look into those eyes without being reminded of her last moments.

She wasn’t sure how long it was before they stepped apart. Time had no hold over them, and it wouldn’t ever again. She wouldn’t be afraid that every time she saw him would be the last, or that he wouldn’t know who she was. All that was past them now. Time would run its course, as it always did, but this time they would face it together.


	24. Chapter 24

They were kissing again when Clara finally made it down to the mainframe, the indecorous sort of kissing that made everyone around to witness it feel intensely uncomfortable. And why shouldn’t they? It wasn’t like they were planning on anyone seeing it, Clara thought with a grimace. She stopped dead in the doorway, wanting to tear her eyes away but unable to.

It took her a moment to snap out of it; when she was finally able to move, she knocked on the side of the doorway and cleared her throat to get their attention. They turned, identical looks of surprise on their faces at the sight of her, startled expressions which soon settled into other emotions.

At least the Doctor had the decency to look embarrassed, Clara thought. River didn’t look apologetic at all for what they’d just been caught doing; and why should she? Clara asked herself. She _was_ his wife, after all. It was Clara who should be ashamed, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel anything but disappointed.

“I thought you were in the TARDIS.” The Doctor looked down at his feet as he spoke, his entire face reddening right up to the tips of his ears.

“I was,” Clara said flatly. She paused. “Did you really expect me not to follow you?”

The look on his face clearly said that yes, he had. This time, of all times, he had expected her to respect his directions. He shifted his feet and reflexively straightened his bowtie.

“Well, as a matter of fact, yes. I did.”

There was an awkward silence for a moment before Clara addressed the Doctor again.

“Can I speak to you, please? Alone,” she added quickly, seeing River’s expression.

He looked over to River as if seeking her approval; she squeezed his hand, which she still held clasped tight with her own. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze in return before walking over to join Clara.

Nervous, Clara gestured to the door. “Do you want to go outside?”

He gave a rather abrupt nod, and with a shock she realized he looked nearly as nervous as she felt, almost as if he knew where this conversation was headed. Maybe he wasn’t as clueless as he appeared.

They turned the corner in an awkward silence which neither seemed to want to break even when they stopped walking, safely out of earshot of the nearest patrons. He fidgeted, adjusting his bowtie again, though it was completely straight. That was surprising, considering what they’d been doing when she walked in on them; she’d have thought it would be askew, if not discarded completely. The thought made Clara’s stomach turn. She swallowed hard, cleared her throat.

“So, Doctor.” Now that the moment had finally arrived, she found she didn’t have the words to tell him what she’d been waiting all this time to say.

“What did you want to talk about?” the Doctor asked when it became apparent she wasn’t going to say any more.

She sighed. “It’s about River. And… us.”

His hands flew up to the bowtie again; in any other situation it would’ve made Clara laugh. In this situation, however, it didn’t strike her as funny.

“I’m sorry, Clara,” he said after a moment. “I know I’ve been… well, I haven’t been the most fun to be around. I should’ve taken you home instead of dragging you along here. I know I’m not the only thing in your life; it was selfish of me to keep you. Don’t worry, I’ll go get River and then we can drop you off at home.”

For a moment she couldn’t think of a thing to say— _so he didn’t know what she’d wanted to talk to him about after all_ —before she regained her powers of speech.

“No,” she said quickly, before she could lose her courage altogether. “No, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. I love traveling with you, and besides, you’ve got the TARDIS. She can just drop me off right back where I left; I’m not missing a thing.

“I wanted to talk about something else,” she continued, her tone determined. “About everything that’s happened. With you and me and… and River.”

He blinked. “What about her?”

Clara sighed. “I don’t know, it’s just… you never told me about her. You never warned me that it wasn’t just us. I thought that… maybe…”

It was hard to say it, now. Clara usually had no problems with this kind of stuff; why should she now? She took a deep breath and plowed on, holding up her hand to silence the Doctor, who looked like he’d been about to say something.

“I really like you, Doctor. Fancy you, maybe. And I have for a very long time. I think it’s time you knew that.”

***

River had seen that look on many a girl’s face before; she had recognized it when they’d been on Trenzalore and she knew it all too well now.

Clara was in love with the Doctor. That was what she’d wanted to talk to him about, and that was why River had taken an immediate dislike to her. She’d perhaps been too hasty in judging the young woman; after all, it wasn’t Clara’s fault that the Doctor had, apparently, refused to speak her name for the past thousand years. Still, though, could she really be expected to welcome Clara with open arms?

She was used to this; women tended to fall for the Doctor. He was handsome and adventurous and, above all, a good man at heart. They flirted with him and he flirted back. Half the time he didn’t mean to, but he did all the same, in that innocent way he had, and they inevitably felt let down when they finally realized there had been nothing between them at all, that he had a wife. Her.

She was that wife, and though she knew now that he’d always return to her, she didn’t want to let him out of her sight. If the Doctor even managed to have a proper conversation with Clara about the whole thing—which River doubted, because he’d always been so damn awkward when it came to feelings (she herself was proof of that)—things weren’t going to be the same between the Doctor and his companion. She wouldn’t get over it easily; it wasn’t easy to get over any man, and especially one you were so close to. River knew only too well.

***

He didn’t say anything at first, and she wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. Her world was narrowed down to this single point, this single moment, and everything seemed a blur.

He heaved in a breath, fidgeted, and straightened his bowtie, watching Clara as if she were some sort of bomb about to detonate. She was, in a way. What was River going to think about this? She knew he loved her, and only her, didn’t she?

Clara didn’t speak, and neither did the Doctor. He merely stood there uncomfortably, trying not to fidget.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Clara couldn’t take it any longer.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes—no—I don’t know!” the Doctor stammered, running his hands through his hair in a gesture reminiscent of his tenth self.

“You _don’t know_?” Her tone was disbelieving. “I tell you I love you and you just say ‘I don’t know?’ I understand now why River left you—you deserved it.”

“Clara!” he protested. “Clara, Clara, Clara. Please just slow down,” he babbled, speaking fast himself. He held his hands up in front of him, speaking as if to a frightened animal. “I—this is… sudden. Very sudden.”

“It’s been going on for a long time, Doctor.” _Only you were too blind to see it_ , she added in her head, leaving the words unspoken.

“I didn’t realize!” The Doctor threw his hands up in the air and began to pace back and forth, back and forth until Clara thought she might explode from irritation. Fortunately, he chose that moment to stop and face her.

“You know it can’t be like that, Clara.” His eyes were pleading, begging her to forget this, to let things go back to the way they used to be before Trenzalore and the Library and her confession. “I’m married, and, and…”

He didn’t love her in that way, plain and simple. But he couldn’t just come out and say it aloud.

“Just leave her here, Doctor. I know you feel guilty for everything that’s happened to her, but it’s her fault as much as yours. Please. We can be happy,” she pleaded, all reason gone from her mind, and his stomach twisted itself into knots.

“I can’t, Clara, I’m sorry.” The regret in his voice wasn’t because he knew he couldn’t run away with her—no, he had no desire to elope with Clara Oswald. It was because he knew that this moment was going to change everything between them. They were standing on opposite sides of the fault line, and the biggest earthquake yet had just struck. And there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.

“You love her, don’t you?” she asked quietly, tone flat and emotionless. He nodded. “I thought as much.”

“I love you, too, Clara. Just—as a friend. Not how I love River,” he amended hastily before the hope could spring back to her eyes. “And I do want you to continue traveling with us, but I don’t know if that’s the best idea for the time being.”

It wasn’t a good idea, not after this. Clara knew it; the Doctor knew it. Heck, even Jenna had been able to tell just from what she’d seen of them. It had never been a good idea to fall for him in the first place; she should have known it would end like this, with her heart broken in two, standing in front of him trying not to let the tears fall.

She didn’t trust herself to say anything; instead, she nodded, eyes cast downward. He crossed the hallway to her, hesitantly took her hand. She let him. It might be the last time he ever held her hand like that, she realized with a pang. Maybe he’d come back to visit her once in a while. Maybe he wouldn’t forget her as he had forgotten so many others. Or maybe he would. Maybe he would just leave her behind, leave her in the dust and never speak her name again as he had done to River Song. There was no way of knowing.

“Come on, we’ll get River and go back to the TARDIS,” he said soothingly, but she could only nod blindly and try to wipe the tears away with her free hand, trying in vain to keep her makeup from smudging. How was it that women in the movies always managed to look graceful and pretty even when they were crying? Real life certainly didn’t work that way, Clara thought ruefully.

River didn’t say much when they entered the mainframe again; there was no need for her to ask questions. She’d known what would happen before it even did, and the tears and Clara’s expression only confirmed her suspicions. She merely looked at the Doctor; some unseen form of communication seemed to pass between them, and then she nodded.

***

The walk back to the TARDIS was a silent one apart from Clara’s sobs, which she tried in vain to stifle. River couldn’t help but feel a stab of sympathy for the young woman; though ultimately she’d be glad to see Clara leave, she understood only too well how it felt to love without being loved in return. Or so she’d thought.

The truth had turned out to be so much better than she had ever expected. Maybe it would be that way for Clara, too; maybe one day the right man would show up to sweep her off her feet and into the adventure of a lifetime. And that adventure didn’t have to involve aliens or danger or even running—love was an adventure in and of itself, and one that River firmly believed that each and every person should have the opportunity to experience for themselves.

Love was hard, but who had ever said it would be easy? The best things in life weren’t found by taking the easy way out. The challenges made the happy ending mean something. The good things in life couldn’t exist without the bad; you just had to take them both in stride, learn as much as you could and savor the happiness while it lasted. River, more than anyone, knew that.

And though she knew that Clara’s heart was broken for the time being, would be broken for a while, she also knew that it would heal. There was a reason people said that what didn’t kill you would make you stronger; the saying had certainly held true for her, and she hoped it would for Clara as well.

So as they dropped her off at home, River smiled and gave her a hug. Though to Clara this seemed like an ending, it was really just a new beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so hard to believe that in just one week, I'll be completely done posting this fic! I just want to take a quick moment to thank all of you for reading, and especially those of you who have left kudos and comments or have bookmarked this story. It means more to me than you know to hear that you like what I've written.  
> In other news, there is a sequel to this one; it's considerably more lighthearted for a change (I know I tend to write lots and lots of angst, so it should be refreshing!). I haven't finished with it, so I'll be posting one chapter a week on Sundays after I finish with this one.  
> Thank you all so much for taking the time to read my work! I love you all.  
> -Ryann


	25. Chapter 25

“Where are we off to next, Professor Song?” The Doctor’s tone was surprisingly cheerful considering that they’d just been to drop Clara off; River wondered if he felt as relieved as she did. Though he could be clueless at times, she did wonder if, deep down, he had known Clara’s feelings for him.

“Wherever you want,” she told him. She felt lighter than she had in a long time, as if a weight she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying had at last been lifted from her chest.

He started rambling about the merits of various planets, but River wasn’t really listening. She was happy just to watch him as he talked, to see the enthusiasm that flitted over his features, the sweeping gestures of his hands. It had been too long since she’d been with him… well, too long since she’d been with him and they hadn’t been busy with yelling or… other things.

“…so we could go there, if that’s okay with you,” he ended, looking at her expectantly. She smiled, reached up and straightened his bowtie.

“That sounds lovely, sweetie.”

***

There was running involved. Wasn’t there always? This time, for once, she wasn’t wearing high heels, so she couldn’t blame him for losing a shoe (she kept them both firmly on her feet the entire time, which had to be some kind of record). Actually, _he_ was the one to lose a shoe this time—the Doctor had somehow managed to step right into a patch of extremely sticky mud.

They walked (or limped, in the Doctor’s case) back to the TARDIS with River teasing him all the way.

“Well, how was I supposed to know that the ground wasn’t solid?” the Doctor complained, his shoeless foot making squelchy sounds, a trail of mud behind it.

“There was a sign, sweetie! Didn’t you read it?”

“Signs are for boring people,” the Doctor protested.

“And they can also save your life,” River pointed out. “Really, you should try actually following the rules like a normal person for once.”

“Normal people are boring!”

“Normal life isn’t as boring as you might think, Doctor. How would you know, anyway? You’ve never given it a chance.” There was a slight irritation in her tone; somehow, it always came back to this. He had an unwavering condescension for all things domestic, and for her career as a professor of archaeology especially. It was, to say the least, frustrating.

“Why would I want to? I’d rather spend my time exploring planets like this one.”

“You’ve got a time machine, sweetie. It’s not like you’re going to miss out on anything by spending a day like a regular human being.”

“I’m not a human being!”

“That wasn’t the point.”

Meanwhile, they’d reached the TARDIS. The Doctor snapped his fingers with ostentatious flair, the doors flying open for him. He made to go inside but was promptly blocked by River, who stood in the doorway with her arms folded across her chest.

“You stay out here. The TARDIS doesn’t appreciate your tracking mud everywhere.”

“But she lets _you_ do it all the time!” the Doctor whined.

River smirked. “Being a child of the TARDIS does have its benefits.”

“But it’s _cold_ out here. Can’t I just come in a little ways? I promise I won’t touch the console.”

“You said that last time,” River pointed out. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back quickly.”

And with that, the doors slammed shut in his face, leaving the Doctor to impatiently wait for her return.

Unfortunately, that was when the natives caught up with them. The Macyuube were small and rather primitive, but known for their incredible ironworks (which meant lots of swords). Their civilization had been destroyed in the early 34th century (by Earth time), which was why he’d taken River to the planet in the first place. He’d thought she might enjoy experiencing their culture firsthand instead of studying them in some old textbook. As usual, things hadn’t quite gone as planned.

As the first small, armored figure emerged out of the forest, the Doctor reached into his pocket, muttering an oath in Gallifreyan when he realized he’d given his screwdriver to River. He turned around, snapping his fingers at the TARDIS. Unfortunately, River was right—the TARDIS didn’t like mud at all. The time machine stubbornly refused to let him in, leaving him no other option but to pound on the door and hope River would hear.

“River? River, you need to let me in! They’re back!”

Unfortunately, River either couldn’t hear him or was choosing to ignore him—he couldn’t be sure which it was. After several moments of pounding on the door (in vain), the Doctor turned back around. The Macyuube had moved several feet towards him in the meantime, and they were continuing to come closer. The Doctor gulped.

If anyone other than himself had been there, he would’ve yelled “Run!” but as it was just him, he merely took off into the forest, hoping he was headed away from the Macyuube’s biggest village. It certainly wouldn’t do to show up there at the moment. Currently the queen wanted his head, convinced he was the scoundrel responsible for the recent destruction of the village, which had, in fact, been caused by an earthquake.

When River returned, towels in hand, she opened the doors to find… nothing. No trace of the Doctor nor any other sign of life. She sighed. What kind of trouble had her husband gotten himself into this time?

***

“I had everything completely under control,” he was telling her some time later, “really. You didn’t have to”—he gestured around with his hands in that flailing way she so adored—“rescue me like that.”

She smirked. “I’m going to take that to mean thank you.”

“Seriously, River, you ruined all chance of a diplomatic negotiation!”

“That was supposed to be a ‘diplomatic negotiation,’ sweetie?” She snorted. “And how does that work when one party hasn’t yet developed an advanced system of language and the other party is hanging over a fire? Just admit it, Doctor: you needed to be rescued.”

“Not with… with… _guns_!” he spluttered.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know I don’t approve of guns!”

“You love it,” she purred.

“Stop it!”

“Make me.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I will.”

And then he was kissing her, soft and slow and sweet. It was a gentle kiss, not filled with the passion and the desperation they usually exhibited but with a sweet, aching love. His fingers threaded their way through her hair, pulling her closer, and she sighed.

His clothes were dripping wet—she’d dunked him into a lake after his clothes had caught on fire—but she didn’t care that he was soaking her, too. She pushed him back towards the console, her fingers struggling to undo the top button of his shirt when—

_Riiiiiiing._

The phone rang.

She groaned in frustration, breaking the kiss. He pulled her back towards him, obviously willing to ignore the call.

“That might be important, sweetie,” she said reluctantly.

“It probably is,” he admitted, pressing one lingering kiss to her cheek before going to answer to phone.

“We’ll always have time for that later,” she said. A faint blush lingered on her cheeks, and she winked. He flushed bright red all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Yes, right, later,” he stammered. “Now I’m off to—um—answer the call. Right.”

She grinned, laughing a little bit. He was so awkward sometimes. And she loved him all the more for it.

***

“Hello?” Jenna asked. “Is this the Doctor?”

“Jenna!” He sounded surprised and perhaps a bit sheepish. “How are you?”

“Just fine. But where are you guys?”

“Oh, erm…” With everything that had happened, they’d completely forgotten to tell her they were leaving. “The planet Veyuvoye, Tagapachi System. I don’t suppose that means anything to you, though. River and I needed a little time together.”

There was a silence before Jenna finally said, “Oh. All right. I understand.”

“When is it for you?” the Doctor ventured.

“You were here just this morning, if that’s what you mean. I had to go to work. What about you?”

“About linear, then.”

Another awkward pause. The Doctor could hear Jenna breathing over the other side of the line, could hear the background noise. She must still be in the Library proper, not in her flat.

She broke the relative silence at last. “Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

“We didn’t think to,” he told her honestly. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you going to be coming back?”

“We’ll visit,” he assured her. “If you want us to.”

“Of course I want you to,” she said quickly. “You don’t have to—I mean, I don’t expect you to—but if you can, that would be great. It’s just so… _boring_ around here, you know? I’ve spent twenty four years of my life here, reading about all the fantastic adventures I could be having but never actually getting to go anywhere or do anything.”

He understood completely; that was how he’d felt back on Gallifrey, so many years ago now. The thirst for adventures he’d always dreamed about but never made real.

“We’ll be back,” he promised her. When, exactly, he didn’t know. But this certainly wasn’t the last they’d be seeing of one Charlotte Jennifer Lux.

Relieved, Jenna hung up the phone and began the walk back to her flat. The Library felt lonely, empty without the sense of adventure that had pervaded it when the Doctor, River, and Clara had been there. At least he’d told her they’d return; she didn’t know if she could trust his word, but at least she had hope.

Jenna didn’t pay much attention to where she was walking; the way home was second nature to her, even from far away. She had picked up a book from one of the shelves somewhere along the way; that day she’d taken a trip to the Fantasy section, her personal favorite. So as she walked along, head buried in her book, she didn’t notice that she was walking into something—or rather, some _one_.

“Oof!” The impact caused Jenna to look up and the stranger to spin around, revealing… her father.

“Charlotte.” He looked happy to see her, for once. “Just who I was looking for. Would you mind showing this young man to the Earth biographies? He’s interested in ancient Earth history.”

He gestured to the man standing beside him, who looked to be around Jenna’s age. Mentally, Jenna sighed; this was probably another one of her father’s attempts to get her married off to a respectable man, or to at least get a boyfriend. Her father had once told her she should stop reading so many books “because reading useless fantasy stories won’t get you anywhere in life.” Of course, he’d meant that it wouldn’t get her a husband—her father’s ultimate goal was to marry her off to a handsome young man, preferably rich, so she’d be out of his hair forever. Not that he didn’t care about her; he only wanted what was best, in his opinion, for Jenna. However, what _he_ thought was best and what _she_ thought was best very often contradicted one another. She had long since found that pretending to agree with him was the best course of action.

She pasted on her brightest smile. “Certainly, Father. And what’s your name?” This last bit was addressed to the handsome stranger.

His smile was all flashing white teeth and coolness. “Clarence Henderson. And you must be Charlotte.”

He took her hand, raised it to his mouth and kissed it as in an old-fashioned romance novel (she’d read far too many of those for her own good).

“It’s Jenna, actually,” she said frostily, yanking her hand away. “Come on, let’s go.”

She planned on taking him to a node for help, as her father could have done in the first place. It was easy enough to ask for directions, and unless this Clarence was a complete idiot, he could always just read a map.

Trying not to sigh aloud, Jenna walked briskly around the corner and wondered when the Doctor and River would be back. It certainly couldn’t be too soon.


	26. Chapter 26

“Who was it?” River asked when he’d hung up. The Doctor turned back towards her.

“Jenna,” he replied. “She was wondering where we were.”

“We should have told her we were leaving,” River realized. “How long was it for her? I hope she wasn’t worried.”

“Only a few hours,” he reassured her. “I promised we’d visit.”

River’s eyes took on a sparkle and her mouth curved into a mischievous smirk. “We can do that later. I seem to recall that we were doing something important before we were interrupted…”

***

“You wanted to see Earth biographies, then?” Jenna asked, not bothering with a fake cheerful tone. It was best, she’d realized from experience, not to lead them on at all. It was easier for both parties that way.

He waved his hand dismissively. “That’s not what I’m really here for.”

“Oh?” She didn’t so much as blink, walking steadily onwards towards the help desks. “What can I help you with, then? Realistic fiction? Sci-fi? You seem like a sci-fi person. We’ve got some lovely books from Azy—”

He cut her off before she could finish. “I’m not here for the books.”

Still she walked on, choosing not to ask him what he meant. That would only encourage him, and for some reason she had a strange feeling about this man. Something about him was… disconcerting. Typically the beaus her father sent for her were harmless; bland, yes, and completely uninteresting to her, but altogether unthreatening. There was something odd about this Clarence, though. She couldn’t wait to be rid of him.

As the help desks came into view around the corner of the bookshelf, she picked up the pace.

“Charlotte?” he inquired from behind her.

“It’s _Jenna_ ,” she spat, “and the help desks are there. You can escort yourself to wherever you want to go; I’m busy.”

She spun on her heel, but he caught her by the arm. She tried to jerk it out of his grasp, but he pulled her back towards him insistently.

“Let go of me or I’ll call for help!” she threatened him.

“Charlotte, don’t you recognize me?”

She studied his features. He was a handsome young man, possibly a year or two older than herself, with high cheekbones and hair of a brown so dark it almost looked black in this light. She studied his eyes, dark brown and rimmed with dark lashes. That was the only part that seemed familiar to her: those eyes. Somehow she felt as if she knew them, as if she’d seen them before.

“Should I?” she asked finally.

“It’s _me_!” He said it like that explained something, like she should know who he was. She arched a brow, unimpressed.

“I’ve never met you before in my life.”

“Yes, you have! It’s me! Art. Remember?”

“What?” His words caught her completely off guard. She hadn’t heard that name in years. This man couldn’t be Art… her Art. The boy she’d known had had big buckteeth, forever mussed hair, a tall and gangly form… and those very same brown eyes. But that man had left her nearly fifteen years ago, when they were both still children, to join a failed mission to establish a new colony. That man was dead.

“I’m back!”

“No… you left. They said you were dead! This can’t be happening.” She was talking mostly to herself, unable to believe it.

“It’s me, Charlotte!” He took her hand in his, trying to reassure her, but she wasn’t paying attention. This couldn’t be. It simply wasn’t possible! He’d left so long ago. That ship had exploded. No survivors, all the reports had said. She had refused to believe it until her father had shown her the letter. And then it was all too real.

_We regret to inform you of the death of Arthur Jacob Thomas._

There were so many questions she could’ve asked him, but somehow the one that managed to pop out of her mouth was, “Why Clarence? That’s kind of a stupid name.”

He laughed. “That was sort of the point. I didn’t want your father to recognize me.”

“I doubt he would’ve. You’re so…”

“Handsome?” he teased.

“I was going to say different.” She grinned. “But I suppose handsome could apply as well. You’ve grown.”

“So have you,” he observed, and the way he said it made her blush and look away for a moment.

How was this even possible? He’d left nearly fifteen years before aboard one of the shuttles that was planning to colonize one of the nearby planets. She’d only been ten years old then, but she remembered clearly the shock, the disbelief as she watched the shuttle as it exploded in the sky, knowing that her best friend was onboard. He’d been her best friend for the earliest years of their lives—they’d met before she’d even started going by Jenna, back before either of them could even read.

“How are you even here?” she asked. “I thought the shuttle exploded.”

“It did,” Art said. “But I wasn’t on it.”

She couldn’t think of anything to say, so she waited for him to explain. And explain he did.

“I told you the wrong name. There were two shuttles—the _Odyssey_ and the _Expedition_. I told you I was going on the _Expedition_ , but I got it wrong. We weren’t on it when it exploded.”

“Why didn’t you contact me?”

Art shrugged. “We were too far away. By the time I even thought to call, we were out of range and nearly to the colony.”

Jenna was suddenly filled with an overwhelming rush of joy. She’d thought she would never see him again, that he was gone forever. And now he was back, a grown man but with that same playful smile, and now with so many adventures to recount. She wished her life had been half as interesting.

But, she realized with a grin, she would soon have stories of her own to tell if the Doctor kept his word.

***

It felt good not to have to worry about timelines and being linear, not to have to say “spoilers” or worry that this was the last time she’d see him. The future stretched on ahead, a bright and shining path rushing to meet them.

They were currently on their second (official) honeymoon, because, as the Doctor had said, why not? They’d never had a proper one in the first place; he had taken her on adventures after she’d been imprisoned in Stormcage, but nothing like this. She’d never asked him for a honeymoon, not expecting he’d care much. Sure, a honeymoon meant traveling, but she’d thought it was still too domestic for the Doctor.

But this time he had been the one to suggest it, for which she was glad. He loved her—she knew that now—but there were still things she’d never expect him to do for her. And he constantly surprised her by doing them.

Take, for instance, the trip to Luna University. He’d never shown much interest in her work before—he was always going on about how humans were so backwards and “ _really, River, why don’t you just go back in time and find out what really happened?”_

_She sighs, exasperated. “I’ve told you, sweetie, it’s against the rules.”_

_“What rules? Time traveling has no rules.”_

_“Not as far as you’re concerned,” she mutters, then speaks to him again. “There are rules for everything, whether you choose to follow them or not.”_

_“Rules are meant to be broken.”_

_“Says the Time Lord with the maturity of a twelve year-old,” River says dryly._

_“Oi!”_

She understood now why he’d never wanted to see her office or go on digs with her. She knew now why he’d always flinched away from the title “Professor.” He had always known where she was going, had always known that her being made a professor was the beginning of the end.

Now, though, the Library didn’t hang over them like a raincloud anymore. He’d admitted he may not have as much scorn for archaeologists as he’d said he did… though he still didn’t see why she shouldn’t just travel back in time to right the mistakes of the profession, of which, he assured her, there were many. She’d laughed and said that was cheating, but when he dragged her back in time to see ancient Rome for herself, she certainly didn’t protest.

Today, though, he hadn’t told her where they were going.

“It’s a surprise, River,” he claimed, and she rolled her eyes.

“Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”

“It’ll be fine!” he protested. “I _promise_ I won’t get us thrown in prison this time.”

“I’m not sure I should trust you on that, sweetie,” she said, “considering what happened the last two times.”

But she let him take her hand and lead her out of the TARDIS, eyes closed, and onto the surface of the planet anyway.

“Welcome,” he said, tone dramatic and arms outstretched as he gestured to the landscape, “to Praedonum. It means “pirate” in Latin,” he added as an afterthought. “Discovered by humans in the 61st century and well known for its amazing sea caves. Unfortunately, those caves were quickly inhabited by a variety of scoundrels and thieves, hence the name.”

River raised an eyebrow. “So you’re telling me we’ve landed in the middle of a colony of pirates?”

“Well, they supposedly all died out in the Flood of 6578, but yes, essentially. Is there a problem with that?”

She grinned. “Not at all.”

***

It turned out the pirates weren’t quite as dead as the Doctor had initially supposed; he’d landed nearly a hundred years before he’d intended to, as was typical of him. So that was the day River lost her eighteenth pair of high heels and the Doctor somehow managed to get his shoes soaking wet by stepping into the sea. They ran like that for a while, barefoot on the beach, until they were out of breath and far away from their pursuers. Then they collapsed onto the hot sand, River laughing like a maniac and the Doctor joining in her joyful mood. Neither knew exactly why they were laughing; being chased halfway across the planet (or what felt like halfway across the planet, anyway) by murderous pirates wasn’t exactly humorous, at least not by the normal definition. Then again, they’d never been normal in any way. And, she reflected now, she wouldn’t want to be. She liked normal; normal was safe, easy. But an easy life may as well not have been a life at all. If she were normal, she’d never have met the man she loved. She would never have seen so many incredible things, would never have gone places no human (or part human, part Time Lord, in her case) had gone before.

No, River decided, she was glad for everything that had happened to her, the good and the bad. It had all been worth it in the end, the happiness and the heartbreak, the fancy dinners and the running from pirates.

“Thank you,” she told the Doctor when at last they’d finished laughing. Her sides ached from the force of it, from those moments of pure joy.

He looked surprised. “For what?”

She shrugged and leaned in to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “For everything.”

And then the pirates were back, interrupting the moment as something always seemed to. The Doctor reached into his bigger-on-the-inside pocket, pulling out two new pairs of shoes, the practical kind made for running in. The sight made her laugh again.

He grinned. “I figured we’d need them.”

“You were right about that, my love.”

And then he took her hand and they were running again, over the warm sands and cliff faces, heading ever towards the TARDIS to burst through the doors as they always did, filled with life and love and the excitement of adventure.

And so they ran on, through starlight and sunlight and pouring rain. This time, though, they ran together, her hand in his, fingers interwoven tightly.

Now that he had her back, he would never let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it ends. It seems surreal to think that it's really over after so long! Thank you so much to anyone who has read this or left kudos or comments. You've been such an inspiration to me and I love you all so much. I really can't thank you enough.  
> There is indeed a sequel to this story; it's titled Out of the Woods, and I'm going to begin posting it on Sunday and do once a week updates.  
> Thanks again for everything! I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
> Much love,  
> Ryann Bennett


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